Together (A Harry Potter love story) 3

21

And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over me internally. I doubled over on my broom, still clutching tightly onto the Quaffle. The icy rain seemed to be cutting my skin, just as I became aware of something moving on the pitch below...

Before I'd had time to think, I had squinted my eyes through the blasting wind and looked down.

At least a hundred Dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at me, were standing below. It was as though freezing water was rising in my chest...then something brought me back to my senses.

Harry was falling unconscious towards the ground, fifty feet from the air. Without thinking, I dived after him, stretching my arm out in an attempt to save him crashing onto the grass. When i did, however, because of the sudden weight, I lost my grip of the broom.

One moment I was falling through the icy mist, next moment I landed on the ground with a crash, a sharp pain shooting through my head.

I vaguely heard screams as I welcomed the darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lucky the ground was so soft."

"I thought you were both dead for sure."

"But you didn't even break your glasses."

I could hear the voices whispering, but they made no sense whatsoever. I didn't have a clue where I was, or how I'd got there, or what I'd been doing before I got there. All I knew was that every inch of me was aching as though it had been beaten.

"That was the scariest thing I've even seen in my life."

Scariest...the scariest thing...hooded black figures...cold...Harry...

My eyes snapped open. I was lying in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, spattered with mud from head to foot, was gathered around my bed. Ron, Mione and Elwood were also there, looking as though they'd just climbed out of a swimming pool. But someone was missing...

I then became aware of an arm around my shoulders. Turning my head slowly, I met Harry's worried eyes, who looked extremely white underneath the mud.

"Mills!" He wrapped both arms around me, burying his face in my hair. "You're such a git, why would you do that for me-"

"How're y-you feeling?" Elwood asked shakily.

It was as though my memory was on fast forward. The lightning...the Quaffle...and the Dementors...Harry...

"What happened?" I croaked, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped. "What?"

"You went after Harry and fell," Fred told me. "Must've been - what - fifty feet?"

"We though you'd died," said Alicia, who was trembling.

Mione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot. Harry was now repeatedly kissing my head.

"But the match," I said. "What happened? Are we having a replay?"

No-one said anything. The horrible truth sank into me like a stone. I let out a short shaky breath.

Harry had looked up; he clearly hadn't asked about the match yet. "We didn't - lose?"

"Diggory got the Snitch," said George. "Just after you fell. He didn't realise what had happened. When he looked back and saw you both on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a re-match. But they won fair and square...even Wood admits it."

"Where is he?" I asked, suddenly realising he wasn't there.

"Still in the showers," said Fred. "We think he's trying to drown himself."

Beside me, Harry put his faces to his knees, his hands gripping his hair. I pulled his head into my lap, stroking his hair soothingly.

"Come on, H," I whispered, leaning down and kissing the back of his neck softly. "You've never missed the Snitch before, there had to be one time you didn't get it."

"It's not over yet," said Fred. "We lost by a hundred points, right? So if Hufflepuff lose to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin-"

"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points," George pointed out.

"But if they beat Ravenclaw-"

"No way, Ravenclaw are too good. But if Slytherin lose against Hufflepuff-"

"It all depends on the points - a margin of a hundred either way-"

I lay there, running my hands through my distraught boyfriends sodden hair. We had lost...for the first time ever, I had lost a Quidditch match.

After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave us in peace.

"We'll come and see you later," Fred told us. "And don't beat yourself up, Harry, you're still the best Seeker we've ever had."

The team trooped out, Elwood trailing behind them, sending me a reassuring smile. Madam Pomfrey shut the door behind them, looking disapprovingly at all the mud they had left. Ron and Mione moved nearer to my bed, while Harry sat beside me, his arm snaked around my waist.

"Dumbledore was really angry," Mione said in a quaking voice. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran into the pitch as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the Dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium straight away...he was furious they'd come into the grounds, we heard him-"

"Then he magicked you both onto separate stretchers," Ron interrupted. "And walked up to school with you floating on them. Everyone thought you were..."

His voice faded away, but I barely noticed. Mione kept sending me cautious looks, glancing at Harry as though trying to hint something. I tilted my head in confusion. She sighed, before pointing at my Nimbus, which was lying on the floor by my bed. And then it hit me.

"Where's Harry's broom?"

Mione groaned at my forwardness, looking quickly at Ron.

"Erm-"

"What?" said Harry, using two fingers to tilt my head onto his shoulder.

"Well...when you fell off, it got blown away," Mione explained slowly.

"And?"

"And it hit - oh, Harry - it hit the Whomping Willow!"

My insides lurched.

"And?" Harry said weakly, his fingers curling against my skin.

"Well, you know the Whomping Willow," said Ron. "It - it doesn't like being hit."

"Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came round," said Mione in a very small voice.

Slowly, she reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside-down and tipped a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains of Harry's faithful, finally beaten broomstick.