Summary: Harry holds Quidditch tryouts; first Slug Club party
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"
Harry felt his face grow warm at Ron's words. Hermione, though, was frowning.
"You really shouldn't have said it," she said.
"Lay off him, Hermione," Ron said. "It was brilliant."
He threw an arm over Harry's shoulders and ruffled his hair.
After lunch, they had a free period, which was unfortunately spent on Snape's homework instead of relaxing. Then it was off to the dungeons for Potions. Only a dozen students made it to N.E.W.T. level.
When they entered the classroom, Harry wrinkled his nose. "How much cologne did you use?" he asked Ron. And how was he only just noticing?
"How should I know?" said Ron indignantly. "Your shampoo is overpowering everything else!"
Hermione frowned. She seemed to be doing some quick thinking, but she didn't get a chance to share whatever it was on her mind. Slughorn had started class.
Hermione, unsurprisingly, was able to name all of the potions Slughorn had set out for them to look at, including Amortentia.
"You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?" Slughorn said.
Hermione nodded, eyes bright. "And the steam rising in characteristic spirals, and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us..."
Oh.
Harry deliberately didn't look at Ron, though out of the corner of his eye he could see Ernie raising his eyebrow.
He made himself concentrate harder, keeping his eyes on the pages of the Advanced Potion-Making copy Slughorn had given him. It proved to be more effective than he thought, almost too effective; Harry could hardly read a damn word with the scribbles in the margins.
Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting, he managed to read. Worth a shot, Harry decided. He borrowed Hermione's knife and was amazed when his potion turned into the lilac as described.
Ron looked across the table at Harry's potion in disbelief. It looked even better than Hermione's, and that was saying something. Upon closer inspection, he glimpsed the margins, which had been written in. If he had more time, he bet he could have fixed his own potion, which had the consistency and appearance of tar.
"And time's... up!" shouted Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"
He passed between the tables peering into the cauldrons and it came as no surprise to Ron when Harry was announced the winner. Hermione, though, looked thoroughly disappointed.
"I suppose you think I cheated?" said Harry irritably once at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.
"Well, it wasn't exactly your own work, was it?" she said stiffly.
"None of the books are our own work," Ron pointed out. "Even the instructions Snape left on the board weren't ours. Honestly, Hermione, it's not a big deal."
Throughout the next two weeks, however, Hermione grew more and more bad-tempered. Even Ron, as much as he stayed out of it, wasn't all too keen on the book. Oh, well. At least Snape wasn't teaching Potions anymore; he'd probably be even more furious with Harry than Hermione was.
"Quidditch tryouts today," Harry said. "Although it's probably gonna take a while. Don't know why the team's pretty popular all of a sudden."
"It's not Quidditch that's popular, Harry, it's you!" Hermione said impatiently.
Ron let out a cough. Hermione didn't look at him.
"I — me?" Harry stammered out.
"Yes, you. The 'Chosen One' and all that. You stuck by your story even when the whole world and the Ministry itself," she added, nodding at his hand, "were against you. Not to mention, your godfather being free is something people are still talking about." Hermione paused, lifting her goblet to her lips. "And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer, either."
The ceiling did not match the rush of warmth Harry was feeling. He looked around for something to talk about instead but ended up saying, "Ron's taller."
Hermione smiled a little. "Yes, he is. But don't remind people that. They might get the wrong idea."
Harry did not find this as funny as she did.
Tryouts did indeed take up most of the morning. Very few were taking it seriously, and unfortunately for Harry, Cormac McLaggen was among them. He managed to block all five goals, but it was all too clear from the looks from the other members that McLaggen would not be a good choice. When Ron saved all five goals, though, Demelza Robins and Ritchie Coote cheered loudest of all. It was all too clear who the new Keeper was.
Harry turned to a red-faced McLaggen.
"His sister didn't really try," he said before Harry could speak. "She gave him an easy save."
"Rubbish," Harry retorted. "That was the one he nearly missed."
An ugly sneer crossed McLaggen's face. "It's because you're so besotted with Weasley that you're even letting him try out. If it were up to me, he wouldn't even be a reserve."
"Well, it's a good thing it's not up to you, then."
McLaggen looked like he wanted to hit something. But then he took a deep breath to calm himself. "Give me another go."
"No," Harry said firmly. "You did brilliantly, but you didn't make the team."
McLaggen made an ugly grimace and stormed away, growling under his breath.
"Maybe I was a little too quick to defend him," Hermione said as she, Harry, and Ron headed to the Great Hall later that evening.
"Maybe?" Ron said scathingly. "No one would have liked him on the team anyway, no matter how good he is."
Harry nodded in agreement.
Professor Slughorn stepped in front of them at that moment, blocking them from entering.
"Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see! I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? I've got McLaggen coming and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin — I don't know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries — and, of course, you can bring Mr. Weasley here."
There was a noticeable drop in enthusiasm in which Slughorn said Ron's name. "Can't. I've got detention with Professor Snape."
"Oh, dear!" said Slughorn, either oblivious to or ignoring the slightly cool tone Harry used. "Well, I suppose he can come with Miss Granger!"
Hermione had bristled slightly, evidently picking up the near dismissal of Ron as well. But in the face of Slughorn's hopeful look and the lack of excuse to decline, she said, "I suppose."
"Excellent, excellent. And don't worry about a thing, Harry. I'll just have a word with Severus and explain the situation, I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you all later!"
"Fat chance of that," Harry muttered. "There's no way Snape will postpone again."
"At least you won't see McLaggen," Ron pointed out.
Harry grunted. He felt like McLaggen would be better company than Snape, not that that was much of a compliment.
As Harry went off for his detention, Ron and Hermione headed for Slughorn's office.
"Do you think it'll be worth it?" Hermione wondered.
"Oh, I hope so. Can you imagine Harry's face if we said we would've been better off doing detention with Snape?"
Hermione stifled a laugh.
They reached the door and stepped through. The sounds of conversation became louder immediately.
"Well, so far it looks promising," Ron noted, looking at the decorations.
Hermione didn't respond; she had spotted a number of house-elves and was biting back an instinctive cutting remark.
"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley!" Slughorn said, walking over. "I'm sorry Harry couldn't come, but I guarantee he'll want to hear all about it later, won't he?"
He laughed jovially and turned away without waiting for a response.
Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron, who just shrugged. Without needing to say anything, they started walking farther into the office, picking up mead from the other side.
It wasn't too bad, Ron decided, talking with Hermione about miscellaneous things, but he did wish Harry were here.
"Let's get out of here," he muttered.
Hermione started to agree, but at that moment, Cormac McLaggen stepped up, moving so fast he might have Apparated.
"Harry didn't come?" he said, looking around the room.
"No," Ron said, regarding him coolly.
"That's too bad," McLaggen said. He took a long drink from his goblet and wiped his mouth. "You know," he went on, smiling nastily at Ron, "during tryouts, Harry said I did brilliantly."
Ron didn't know what to say.
"I'm sure he would have picked me in other circumstances. After all, I did save all five penalties."
"So did I," Ron pointed out, but it was halfhearted at best.
McLaggen made what might have been a sympathetic face if it were on anyone else's face. "You got lucky."
"Got lucky, as if!" Hermione scoffed.
McLaggen raised an eyebrow at her. "And you are?"
Hermione didn't answer. "If anyone would've gotten lucky to make the team, it would've been you."
"Oh, and you're a Quidditch expert, are you?"
"No, but I'm pretty confident that even a flobberworm would make a better teammate than you."
She had hit a nerve. McLaggen towered over Hermione, but she stood her ground.
"Right," he said. "And when Gryffindor loses the House Cup, I'll be there to tell you I told you so."
"And when we win, I'll be the one saying I told you so," said Hermione.
McLaggen curled his lip at her, but he had no more to say. Whirling around, he stormed off into the crowd.
"The nerve of that — that — ugh!" Hermione groaned. "I can't believe he would utter such rubbish!"
Ron shrugged.
"Ron." Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder, her voice softening. "Harry picked you for a reason. Not because you're his boyfriend or because he pitied you. You're an amazing person who is also a really good Keeper."
Ron smiled. "Thanks, Hermione."
"You're welcome." Hermione removed her hand. "Do you still want to leave?"
"Yeah. Let's go."
"So how did it go?" Harry asked back in the common room.
"Fine," Ron said, not meeting his gaze.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "McLaggen was causing trouble just like you thought he would," she explained.
Harry froze, swinging his head to look at Ron. "What did he say?"
"What you told him during Quidditch tryouts. That he did brilliantly."
"Yes, and who made the team?" Harry deadpanned.
"That's what I told him." Hermione sounded exasperated.
Neither boy looked at her.
"Ron," Harry said, taking his hands in his own, "he was just trying to get into your head. I did say that, but I didn't mean anything beyond that."
"I know, I just — he sounded so smug."
"Arrogant pricks do have a habit of talking like that, don't they?"
Ron grinned a little. "Yeah."
"The only thing he got right was that I'm besotted with you," Harry went on. For the third time that day, he felt a blush creep onto his face.
Hermione looked between them and gave a meaningful cough to remind them she was there. "If that is all, I suppose we better get to bed."
"Night," Ron and Harry chorused.
"Also remember it's you who I sleep with," Harry said as they headed for their own dorm.
Ron laughed at that. "And I'm the one you're sleeping with."
"Just you and me." Harry gave his lips a small peck.
"So how was detention?" Ron asked, changing the subject.
Harry's wince spoke a thousand words.
Again with me ending with them going to bed.
The Slug Club is a very appropriate name, don't you think? Sorting the "worthy" students from the "unworthy" ones. It's no wonder Ron was upset every time it got brought up.