*✧･ﾟ:* DEAD TO ME *:･ﾟ✧*
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HARRY HAD BEEN eager to get down to the Quidditch Pitch on the day of the Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw Match. He had been up all night thinking about Jones; not in that way, of course (although he couldn't help it, sometimes), but about what Ron had said to her, more specifically how she had reacted. It seemed, since the night in the kitchens, that he seemed to be paying her more attention.
"Wait, you want to go?" Ron said to Hermione after she had asked to tag along with them to the game. Her Gryffindor scarf was wrapped around her neck, her gloved hands pulling it over her face. "Since when do you care about Quidditch when Gryffindor's not playing?"
"I'll have you know, I have friends outside of Gryffindor," Hermione said shortly, swiftly brushing by Ron. Harry and him traded a look, shrugging shoulders as the three of them exited the common room and made their way out to the pitch. It seemed more students than usual were heading down to watch the match, and Harry couldn't help but believe it was because of Jones.
He was jealous of the conditions they were playing in. The sky was partly cloudy, along with there being barely any wind and Harry had silently wished for the weather to stay as such for Gryffindors next game. Ravenclaw entered the field first; their captain was Anthony Goldstein, who seemed to be relishing in the fine weather. There were quite a few good players on Ravenclaw, Harry thought, but when it came down to it, they were nothing compared to the Slytherin team.
Slytherin came out onto the field second. Unlike Harry, who had had Ron at his side, Jones strode a few paces ahead of her team, her Firebolt on one hand and the other swaying along her side. When she came to a halt, she tilted her head back to look up into the sky; she brought her hands up to tighten her pony tail before turning back to her team and speaking to them with a broad grin.
Jones and Anthony shook hands; Anthony looked rather smug at seeing her but seemed polite enough, but Jones had no sign of any playfulness or pleasantries on her face. Harry got the sudden impression that she took Quidditch far more seriously than he originally believed.
Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Harry was shocked to see how Slytherin was playing. Ravenclaw hadn't changed their tactics by much, but it may as well have been watching a fifth house play for the Slytherins. Goyle was flying higher above the rest of the players than usual, and Malfoy and Zabini were (although Harry hated to admit it) playing brilliantly.
Seeing Jones at practice and during a game were two different women, he thought. At practice, Jones was encouraging yet brash, degrading and praising her players all at once in a way that seemed to drill them into following her rules to the tee. But she was silent during games, brows drawn together, her gloved hand clutching her Beaters bat. Harry watched carefully as she swooped low, drawing her arm back and slamming the bat against the incoming Bludger so hard he thought the bat might snap it half.
"Merlin," Hermione breathed, probably watching Jones as well.
Harry occasionally let his eyes slip away from Jones to look at the Seeker, Theodore Nott, who was flying slowly around the area of the pitch, eyes flickering across the air in search of the glittering, golden snitch. Harry had spotted it already and was physically pained to see that neither Seeker had seen it.
WHAM! Jones whacked another Bludger. Harry could barely find it in him to blink as she soared forward, ponytail whipping behind her and her uniform being tugged tight from the speed of her flying. He was surprised to see her flying so close to the stands, specifically where he was; but yet again, he noticed she was sending a salute to her younger brother, Simon, who cheered loudly and jumped up and down.
The commentator then yelled loudly that Zabini had scored, followed by a score from Malfoy and then another score from Zabini. The Ravenclaw Keeper seemed to be having a hard time keeping up with the two boys, along with Slytherins third chaser, a younger girl named Regina Quinn who was so agile and quick that the Ravenclaw Chasers barely had time to take the Quaffle from her. And even Goyle, who usually was so thick-headed that he flung the Bludger in the wrong direction, was playing to his abilities, swooping down from high up so he came at the Bludger with more force.
And Merlin, Jones was hitting those Bludgers harder than Harry had ever expected. The way she flew differed greatly from anyone Harry had ever seen; she was nothing like Cho Chang, who was elegant and agile, or even Ginny, who was fiery and yet decisive. No, Jones played it rough, quick, and passionate. It wasn't until mid-game when he watched her twirl her Beater Bat around in two circles before hitting another Bludger with an adrenaline filled grin that Harry began to daydream of playing alongside her.
Slytherin had one in the end, the score 170-120. Nott had caught the Snitch, resulting in the Slytherin players flying up to crowd around him, engulfing him in such a spirited group hug that Ron had made a bitter comment about them being awfully enthusiastic. Harry said nothing to this and only watched as Jones slung an arm around Nott's shoulders and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheekbone. Did she do that to all her players? Would she have done that to him if he were her Seeker?
Hermione had been lingering behind as the three of them exited the pitch, making Harry have the thought that she wanted to congratulate Jones. When she instructed him and Ron to go on without her, Harry insisted he stayed.
When Hermione and Harry spotted Jones, she was walking alongside Nancy Woods and Theodore Nott. Hermione visibly tensed, probably nervous to be speaking with Jones with her friends around. At least it wasn't Malfoy or Zabini, Harry thought.
"Jones," He called out so Hermione didn't have to as they both walked towards the center of the empty corridor. Jones was still wearing her Quidditch gear minus her robes, leaving her in the same clothes she normally wore for practices. "Interesting tactics."
"Yes, I know," Jones replied, her grin not wavering despite her posture straightening at his presence. Her hair had been slipped out of her ponytail, leaving it airy and slightly wild around her shoulders. Her face was bright red, but her smile was so wide that the color in her face seemed to compliment her. As she locked eyes with him, he felt a small lurch in the lower region on his stomach. "Oh — Hermione!"
She looked surprised to see Hermione there. Harry was suddenly grateful that it was Woods and Nott with Jones rather than other Slytherins; Nott had always been rather polite to Hermione, and Woods seemed to always get quiet around her.
"Hi," Hermione waved, smiling. "Good game!"
"You watched, did you?" Jones was practically bouncing on her toes. "Did you see that last Bludger? Close call, wasn't it? Almost hit poor Bletchley on the head."
"He deserves it," Nott commented. Jones nodded in agreement. "Maybe he'd quit fussing with his hair, then."
The three Slytherins laughed, and even Harry found himself greatly amused by Nott's commentary. Hermione visibly relaxed, her shoulders dropping and her posture loosening up.
"Jones, could I have a word?" Harry said hesitantly when their laughter had calmed down, eliciting a sharp and confused look from Jones. He noticed Woods glance in between her friend and Hermione frantically. Jones noticed this as well, and Harry saw her lightly touch her friends elbow as an act of comfort.
"Suppose so," Jones shrugged, sending a look to Woods. When the pair of them stepped away, Harry was shocked to see the two Slytherins conversing with Hermione cordially. Jones brushed her hair behind her shoulders and sat into her hip, glancing up at him. "What?"
"Sorry about Ron," Harry found himself blurting. "In the library. It was totally out of pocket."
"Oh?" Jones seemed a bit startled by this. "I — well — that's alright. Used to that kind of talk, really."
"Yeah, well..." Harry found himself feeling a bit nervous under her gaze. She seemed so utterly confident in everything she did, so confident that he found himself struggling to maintain proper eye contact with her. Especially when her Quidditch uniform fit her so well.
"Any reasoning for this?" Jones cocked up an eyebrow.
"No," Harry shrugged. "Just felt like he shouldn't have — erm — gone that far."
Jones blinked at him for a moment, and then her eyes traced over him just as she had during their shared Quidditch practice, up across his face and then down over the length of his body as though she were searching for something he was hiding from her. Harry had the sudden thought that he wished he could read her mind and see what she was thinking about him.
"Thanks, I guess," She said once she met his eyes again. "But just cause' you've apologized doesn't mean I won't aim for you during the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match. Right for those glasses o' yours."
"I didn't think so," Harry said lightly. Jones ran her teeth across her lower lip, her eyes shifting over towards Woods, Nott, and Hermione.
"Well, if that's it, then..."
The pair of them rejoined the others, and Harry took notice that Jones seemed very pleased that Woods and Hermione were enthusiastically speaking with each other. After a few words were shared, the three Slytherins bid Hermione (and Harry, technically) goodbye before walking off down the hall. Harry watched as Jones nudged Woods in the shoulder, to which the girl whacked her and glanced back at Hermione, who smiled and waved. Harry, guiltily, was glad that Ron had not been there for the exchange; god knows what he would have done.
✧✧✧
"HARRY!" HE WOKE up with a jolt, his front coated with an uncomfortable layer of sweat and his breathing so out of whack that he wondered if he were still alive. Harry frantically leaned back to grab his glasses, and the blurry outlines of both Ron and Neville Longbottom (another boy in his dormitory) became clear. The latter looked frightened, probably wondering if he should send for Professor McGonagall, whereas the former seemed sympathetic. Ron had been one of the few who knew about his nightmares.
"You alright?" Neville asked unsurely. Ron was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking slightly apprehensive yet frowning. Both boys were wearing their school robes still, and Harry wondered what time it was. The curtains surrounding his bed had been pushed back, making him feel strangely exposed.
"Yeah," Harry breathed out, adjusting his glasses and fidgeting uncomfortably in his night-shirt.
"Why'd you go to bed so early?" Ron asked. "Still a while before curfew, you know."
"I — I was tired, I guess," Harry shrugged, wishing nothing more but to be alone. Neville seemed to have taken the hint, because he only nodded, stepped out, and pulled the curtain a bit closed. Ron however, stayed.
"Was it... you know...?" Ron didn't really like talking about the war. His way of coping was simply pretending it hadn't happened, which, although not a good coping mechanism, was better than drinking or smoking.
"Yeah," Harry ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it as though it would lift his spirits up. He couldn't even remember what he had dreamt of; only that it was unsettling. Perhaps it had been of Colin Creevey's dead body again. "Look, Ron, could you just —"
"You ought to get a Dreamless Sleep from Pomfrey," Ron told him. Harry shook his head fervently, swinging his feet off of his bed.
"No, I don't want it," Harry said stubbornly, reaching over to grab his robes. Ron stood up as well, pushing aside the curtains.
"Well you need it," Ron insisted. "Hermione would say the same —"
"I don't care!" Harry raised his voice, snapping. Rather than pretending like Ron, he had been getting angry much faster than usual. Ron only blinked and sent him a look.
"If you wanna be alone, that's fine," Ron told him, stepping towards the door. "But Mione and I are gonna be in the common room."
His head was pounding in his temples, his heartbeat in his ears as he leaned against one of the bedposts of his now empty dormitory. Perhaps he did need to grab a Dreamless Sleep from Madam Pomfrey... but he didn't like how they knocked him out. It usually went right to his head and he'd have to spend the night in the Hospital Wing since he didn't feel like he could make it back to his dorm without passing out.
When he ventured down into the common room, Ron and Hermione were two of the only people in there. Harry wondered if Slytherin was having another party; they were exclusive to the age of students, but did they care about houses?
"You should really get some rest, Harry," Hermione told him when she noticed his presence. "You were right, Ron, he looks pale..."
"Talking about me, were you?" Harry fired, but as neither of their faces changed, he sighed and ran a hand down his face.
"Your... your scar hasn't been hurting you, has it?" Hermione asked warily, looking as though she did not want to be asking him this.
"No, of course not!" Harry said quickly. "There's no reason why it should! Voldemort's dead!"
"Well... you know, ghost pains," Hermione shrugged. "Either way, Harry. You ought to take a shower and head to bed."
"I'm not going to sleep," Harry slumped into the chair across from the two of them, feeling slightly like a third wheel. Hermione and Ron's hands were joint and resting on the table, at least, they were until Hermione let go to move her books over and dry off her parchment.
"Why don't you go to the Prefects bathroom, then?" Ron suggested, his eyes darting over to Hermione's parchment as he scribbled onto his own, copying her topic sentence and switching around a few of the words. "You're allowed in there, since you're Captain."
"Oh, it's lovely in there," Hermione commented brightly.
"I know, I've been before," Harry paused, considering this. Maybe if Myrtle wasn't still slipping through the pipes in there it would be nice. "You think anyones in there?"
"Definitely not," Ron shook his head. "Both Hufflepuff and Slytherin have parties going on, and Ravenclaw... well, I reckon they prefer the library, eh?"
"Right," Harry nodded, getting up, slightly glad he was leaving the pair of them. "I'm going, then. Bye."
"Don't get back too late," Hermione called after him. Harry ignored her, knowing full well there was a chance he'd be in there all night. He just prayed he'd be able to sleep afterwards.
SHE SPEAKS!
get ready for next chapter... put y'all seatbelts on...
thanks for 3k reads!!!
- s <3