─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Clara was still furious two days later when Harry came to her side in the library.
"I suppose you're still mad at me,"
"Furious more like." said Clara, slamming her book shut and stuffing it into her bag.
"Right..." said Harry, watching her continue to stuff her bag with books and papers, "Well I came to apologize, you see-"
Clara was gone. Her feet carried her down the familiar pathway from her favorite library desk to the doors. Harry was quick to trail her, jogging a bit to make up for the space he lost from her head start.
"Hey! I was talking to you there!" he shouted, the doors slam echoing in the hallway.
"Really? I didn't notice." huffed Clara, speeding up towards the Slytherin common room.
"Honestly! How long are you going to stay angry with me?"
"I haven't really decided, but every time you open your mouth it gets a bit longer."
Harry opened and shut his mouth about five times before continuing, "Look, I am sorry about the things I said, and I'm sorry I've been pinning everything on Draco."
"So you're finally admitting it wasn't him?"
"Yes! That's what I've been trying to tell you!"
At this, Clara stopped walking away and allowed Harry to come to her side. The hallway was emptied of students, and the only sound that could be heard was the wind from outside.
"I really thought it was him. Everything made sense to me, and I guess I just wanted to have the problem over with. I wanted it to be fixed so I could focus on other things."
"What other things?"
"Well, you," said Harry, as if this was obvious. Clara paused as his words brushed over her skin. A small blush was painted on her cheeks and she tried to shake it.
"Right. Well, as long as we're in agreement that the source of darkness this year is not Draco."
"Completely and one hundred percent in agreement."
"Good." There was only silence as the pair looked at each other. Finally Clara smiled and took Harry's hand, "Care for some chess?"
The next morning there was a strangely thick fog as Clara walked to Herbology. The class entered the greenhouse, late, and took their spots. Pansy and Clara sat across from Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Clara put on her protective glasses and got to work on their assignment as the trio of Gryffindors started chatting.
"So how was Slughorn's latest party?" Harry asked Hermione.
"Oh, it was quite fun, really, I mean, he drones on about famous ex-pupils a bit, and he absolutely fawns on McLaggen because he's so well connected, but he gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones."
"What are you babbling on about, Granger?" sneered Pansy.
"Pansy, why don't you go talk to Draco. He can't stop staring at you." said Clara quickly.
"Of course he can't. Well, boy duty calls, see you." Soon, Pansy had pranced her way to the other end of the table where Draco stood, looking disgusted at the pod in his hand. Clara was also disgusted by the pod that she had dug out, but her disgust soon turned to curiosity.
"Gwenog Jones?" said Ron, his eyes widening under his own goggles. "The Gwenog Jones? Captain of the Holyhead Harpies?"
"That's right," said Hermione. "Personally, I thought she was a bit full of herself, but —"
"Quite enough chat over here!" said Professor Sprout briskly, bustling over and looking stern. "You're lagging behind, everybody else has started, and Neville's already got his first pod!"
They looked around; sure enough, there sat Neville with a bloody lip and several nasty scratches along the side of his face, but clutching an unpleasantly pulsating green object about the size of a grapefruit. Clara scoffed as Professor Sprout turned her back on the students. She waved her first pod angrily at the short teacher. Professor Sprout had always had a prejudice against Slytherins, and Clara was quickly getting tired of it.
"Okay, Professor, we're starting now!" said Ron, adding quietly, "should've used Muffliato, Harry."
"No, we shouldn't!" said Hermione at once, looking, as she always did, intensely cross at the thought of the Half-Blood Prince and his spells.
"Well, come on . . . we'd better get going. . . ." She gave the other three an apprehensive look; they all took deep breaths and then dived at the gnarled stump between them. It sprang to life at once; long, prickly, bramble-like vines flew out of the top and whipped through the air. One tangled itself in Hermione's hair, and Ron beat it back with a pair of secateurs; Harry succeeded in trapping a couple of vines and knotting them together; a hole opened in the middle of all the tentacle like branches; Hermione plunged her arm bravely into this hole, which closed like a trap around her elbow; Harry and Ron tugged and wrenched at the vines, forcing the hole to open again, and Hermione snatched her arm free, clutching in her fingers a pod just like Neville's.
At once, the prickly vines shot back inside, and the gnarled stump sat there looking like an innocently dead lump of wood.
"You know, I don't think I'll be having any of these in my garden when I've got my own place," said Ron, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead and wiping sweat from his face.
"Pass me a bowl," said Hermione, holding the pulsating pod at arm's length; Harry handed one over and she dropped the pod into it with a look of disgust on her face.
"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out, the textbook says they're best when they're fresh!" said Clara, squeezing a thick liquid out of her own pod.
"Anyway," said Hermione, continuing their interrupted conversation as though a lump of wood had not just attacked them, "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come."
Harry groaned. Meanwhile, Ron, who was attempting to burst the pod in the bowl by putting both hands on it, standing up, and squashing it as hard as he could, said angrily, "And this is another party just for Slughorn's favorites, is it?"
"Just for the Slug Club, yes," said Hermione.
The pod flew out from under Ron's fingers and hit the greenhouse glass, rebounding onto the back of Professor Sprout's head and knocking off her old, patched hat.
"Oh, Hermione, don't call it that. It makes it sound so drab." said Clara, leaving to retrieve the pod; when she got back, Hermione was saying, "Look, I didn't make up the name 'Slug Club' —"
"'Slug Club,'" repeated Ron with a sneer worthy of Draco. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug —"
"We're allowed to bring guests," said Hermione, who for some reason had turned a bright, boiling scarlet, "and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother!" Clara lifted her head immediately, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips. The smile was wiped off and replaced with tight lips as she held in her laughter. Harry's face was even redder than Hermione's, and he loosened the tie from underneath his uniform. He glanced over at Ron uncomfortably. Unnoticed by neither Ron or Hermione, he seized the bowl that contained the pod and began to try and open it by the noisiest and most energetic means he could; unfortunately, his attempts to distract the pair did not work and they continued on with their conversation. Clara listened intently to what she hoped would be the beginning of Hogwarts' next best couple.
"You were going to ask me?" asked Ron, in a completely different voice.
"Yes," said Hermione angrily. "But obviously if you'd rather I hooked up with McLaggen . . ."
There was a pause while Harry continued to pound the resilient pod with a trowel. Clara shot him a nasty look, but his pounding did not stop.
"No, I wouldn't," said Ron, in a very quiet voice. Harry missed the pod, hit the bowl, and shattered it.
"Reparo," he said hastily, poking the pieces with his wand, and the bowl sprang back together again. The crash, however, appeared to have awoken Ron and Hermione to Harry's presence. Hermione looked flustered and immediately started fussing about for her copy of Flesh Eating Trees of the World to find out the correct way to juice Snargaluff pods; Ron, on the other hand, looked sheepish but also rather pleased with himself.
"Hand that over, Harry," said Hermione hurriedly. "It says we're supposed to puncture them with something sharp. . .." Harry passed her the pod in the bowl; he and Ron both snapped their goggles back over their eyes and dived, once more, for the stump. The rest of the lesson passed without further mention of Slughorn's party, and Clara was left without an answer to her questions about the budding romance between Ron and Hermione. She also still had not gotten to pull Harry aside and discuss their dates for the party.
Clara poked her dinner around with her fork lazily as boredom set over her mind. She pulled out a book to ease the emptiness in her brain and soon a piece of paper had landed above the words she had been devouring.
Clara's fingers unfolded the tiny parchment to see familiar handwriting etched in black ink.
Astronomy Tower. Midnight.
Immediately her head rose to the Gryffindor table where a pair of green eyes were looking at her through round spectacles. Clara nodded her head eagerly before continuing on with her book.
At 11:53, Clara rose from her bed and quietly slipped out of her dorm. Her silence remained all the way through the common room, up the stairs, down three hallways, and finally up the astronomy tower staircase. She let out a sigh of relief as she climbed the last stair - thankful not to have been caught - and walked toward the outlook. In the center of the room stood a large telescope made of bronze that seemed even larger in the pale moonlight. The stars were dancing wildly in the sky and Clara could feel a light breeze flow through her hair.
A light tap on her shoulder made Clara jump. Behind her stood Harry, and she smiled at his wide grin and messy hair.
"Hey,"
"Hey," replied Harry, kissing Clara lightly. He pulled away, but his face still remained inches from her, and tucked a piece of Clara's hair behind her ear. "Sorry I'm late, almost got caught by Filch."
"Really?" Clara asked. She kissed Harry once more before sitting down on the ground and patting the spot next to her. Harry sat there and put his arm around Clara, continuing to plant kisses on her lips.
"Yeah, he's always extra careful around the Gryffindor's space. I swear he's got it out for me."
"Well," said Clara, loosening Harry's tie, "that sounds like an awful lot of trouble."
Harry raised his eyebrows as Clara pushed herself closer to him. He let his hands travel over her body as his tie was removed from his uniform.
"It was, yeah."
"Perhaps I should make it up to you." smirked Clara. Immediately Harry's eyebrows raised and his eyes were flooded with excitement. Clara delicately swung her leg over Harry, and she was now perched over him. She kissed him slowly, letting her actions speak for herself.
"Really?" Harry said, almost whispering. Clara nodded before kissing him again. His hands traveled further upwards and in a matter of minutes Clara's white button down was being unbuttoned. Harry removed the fabric, tossing it to the side, and pulled away from Clara.
He looked over her entire body, taking in every detail that he could.
"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"
"Only five times a day." Clara sang, placing her lips on Harry's neck. Her hand ran through his hair, and a small moan left Harry's mouth.
"Well," said Harry, his shirt was now being flung off and the pair's lips had reconnected at a more aggressive pace. "You... are the most... beautiful girl... I've ever seen." His words came in between kisses and it wasn't long until nothing stood between Harry and Clara except for the skin on their bones.
Breakfast was the usual excitable affair next morning; the Slytherins hissed and booed loudly as every member of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall. Clara sat awkwardly as Ron and Harry entered the hall. She was decked out in her green cardigan and black wool hat, but inside her heart there was a tiny lion that roared for her Gryffindor mates. The Gryffindor table, a solid mass of red and gold, cheered as Harry and Ron approached. Harry grinned and waved; Ron grimaced weakly and shook his head.
"Cheer up, Ron!" called Lavender. "I know you'll be brilliant!" Ron ignored her.
Clara walked over to the red and gold table, ignoring Pansy's shouts willing her to come back.
"Tea?" Harry asked Ron. "Coffee? Pumpkin juice?"
"Anything," said Ron glumly, taking a moody bite of toast. Clara sat beside Harry squeezing his hand discreetly under the table. A few minutes later Hermione, who had become so tired of Ron's recent unpleasant behavior that she had not been eating with them, paused on her way up the table.
"How are you both feeling?" she asked tentatively, her eyes on the back of Ron's head.
"Fine," said Harry, who was concentrating on handing Ron a glass of pumpkin juice.
"There you go, Ron. Drink up." Ron had just raised the glass to his lips when Hermione spoke sharply.
"Don't drink that, Ron!" All three friends looked up at her.
"Why not?" said Ron.
Hermione was now staring at Harry as though she could not believe her eyes. "You just put something in that drink."
"Excuse me?" said Harry.
"You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry, stowing the little bottle hastily in his pocket.
"Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!" Hermione said again, alarmed, but Ron picked up the glass, drained it in one gulp, and said, "Stop bossing me around, Hermione."
She looked scandalized. She bent down low, whispering something into Harry's ear. Harry whispered something back that sent Hermione storming off.
"Nearly time," said Harry blithely.
Clara wished the boys good luck and left the table. Pansy skipped by her side, sporting green face paint and a snake scarf. Clara's ears were filled with Pansy's recollection of her newfound romance with Draco all the way until they reached the Quidditch stands. Clara and Pansy pushed their way to the front row, even in Slytherin, people knew not to mess with Clara.
Clara's eyes caught Harry as he walked onto the field. The teams lined up and the whistle sounded, Harry and the others kicked off hard from the frozen ground, and they were away.
"Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that Potter's put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley's patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help. . . ." These words were greeted with jeers and applause from the Slytherin end of the pitch. Clara looked toward the commentator's podium. A tall, skinny blond boy with an upturned nose was standing there, talking into the magical megaphone that had once been LeeJordan's; she recognized Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player whom she heartily disliked. "Oh, and here comes Slytherin's first attempt on goal, it's Urquhart streaking down the pitch and — Weasley saves it, well, he's bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose. . . ."
Clara's eyes rolled farther than she thought they were capable of, and she clapped her hands respectfully for Ron's save.
With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor were leading sixty points to zero, Ron having made some truly spectacular saves, some by the very tips of his gloves, and Ginny having scored four of Gryffindor's six goals. This effectively stopped Zacharias wondering loudly whether the two Weasleys were only there because Harry liked them. It seemed as though Gryffindor could do no wrong. Again and again they scored, and again and again, at the other end of the pitch, Ron saved goals with apparent ease. He was actually smiling now, and when the crowd greeted a particularly good save with a rousing chorus of the old favorite "Weasley Is Our King," he pretended to conduct them from on high.
"And I think Harper of Slytherin's seen the Snitch!" said Zacharias Smith through his megaphone. "Yes, he's certainly seen something Potter hasn't!"
Clara's stomach dropped as she saw Harry zoom after Harper. Harry accelerated; if Harper caught the snitch then Gryffindor would still lose the match. Somehow, Harper fumbled the snitch as he did a double take to Harry. A loud gasp arose from the sea of green as the Slytherin Seeker collided with the ground. Harry made a great swipe for the tiny, fluttering ball and caught it.
Wheeling around, he hurtled back toward the ground, the Snitch held high in his hand. As the crowd realized what had happened, a great shout went up that almost drowned the sound of the whistle that signaled the end of the game.
Clara quietly left the stand and met up with Hermione outside of the Gryffindor changing room. Hermione was twisting her Gryffindor scarf in her hands and looked upset but determined. The two entered the changing room. Only Ron and Harry remained, and Clara swept them into a giant hug.
"You did it! Oh, you played brilliantly Ron!" She stepped back from the pair and tried to rush into a kiss with Harry, but quickly stopped herself.
"Erm- good playing, Harry." she took Harry's hand in hers and shook it stiffly. Harry's cheeks puffed slightly, and Clara knew he was trying not to laugh at her. The amusement quickly faded from his eyes as Hermione stepped forward.
"I want a word with you, Harry." She took a deep breath."You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, it's illegal."
"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demanded Ron.
"What are you two talking about?" asked Harry, turning away to hang up his robes.
"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" said Hermione shrilly. "You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!"
"Harry!" gasped Clara.
"No, I didn't," said Harry, turning back to face the group.
"Yes you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!"
"I didn't put it in!" said Harry, grinning broadly. He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and drew out the tiny bottle that Hermione had seen in his hand that morning. It was full of golden potion and the cork was still tightly sealed with wax. "I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking." He looked at Ron. "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself." He pocketed the potion again.
"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" Ron said, astounded. "But the weather's good . . . and Vaisey couldn't play. . . . I honestly haven't been given lucky potion?" Harry shook his head. Ron gaped at him for a moment, then rounded on Hermione, imitating her voice. "You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything! See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!"
"I never said you couldn't — Ron, you thought you'd been given it too!" But Ron had already strode past her out of the door with his broomstick over his shoulder.
"Er," said Harry into the sudden silence; obviously not expecting this sort of backfire, "shall . . . shall we go up to the party, then?"
"You go!" said Hermione, blinking back tears. "I'm sick of Ron at the moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done. . . ." And she stormed out of the changing room too.
"Hermione, wait!" cried Clara, but she was already gone. "Oh honestly!"
She let out a sigh and walked back to Harry. She pressed her lips on his and laced her hands with his. "I've got to go help Hermione, but you really did great out there."
Harry shrugged, his cheeks turning red, and dismissed Clara's compliment, "It was nothing really, I'm just glad we got to play."
"Uh-huh, sure. I'll see you at the party?"
Harry nodded and Clara took off to find her emotional friend.
Thirty minutes later, Clara had still not found Hermione. She had checked the library, the charms classroom, the transfiguration classroom, and the history of magic classroom, but Hermione seemed to have disappeared.
Clara could also not see Hermione at the Gryffindor celebration party, which was in full swing when she arrived. As Clara ducked towards the drinks table, she walked straight into Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her shoulder and Crookshanks mewing hopefully at her heels.
"Looking for Ron?" she asked, smirking. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite." Clara looked into the corner she was indicating. There, in full view of the whole room, stood Ron wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it was hard to tell whose hands were whose. "It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" said Ginny dispassionately. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow."
"Right. Actually have you-" But Clara's request was denied as Ginny was pulled into the crowd of people dancing by some of her Gryffindor teammates.
She turned away from Ron, who did not look like he would be surfacing soon, just as the portrait hole was closing. With a sinking feeling, she thought she saw a mane of bushy brown hair whipping out of sight. Clara darted forward, sidestepped Romilda Vane, and pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady. The corridor outside seemed to be deserted.
"Hermione?" Clara shouted. The word echoed through the hallway.
She found her in the first unlocked classroom she tried. Hermione was sitting on the teacher's desk, alone except for a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of midair.
"Oh, hello, Clara," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."
"Yeah . . . they're great." said Clara. She had no idea what to say to her. She was just wondering whether there was any chance that she had not noticed Ron, or if she had merely left the room because the party was a little too rowdy, when Hermione said, in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."
"Er . . . does he?" said Clara. Shit, so she had seen him.
"Don't pretend you didn't see him," said Hermione. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was — ?"
The door behind them burst open. To Clara's horror, Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.
"Oh," he said, drawing up short at the sight of Clara and Hermione. "Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her. There was a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. Hermione was staring at Ron, who refused to look at her. Ron looked at Clara, his face paler than usual. She shook her head at him fiercely but still he opened his mouth.
"Hi, Clara! Wondered where you'd got to!" Hermione slid off the desk. The little flock of golden birds continued to twitter in circles around her head so that she looked like a strange, feathery model of the solar system.
"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone." She walked very slowly and erectly toward the door. Clara glanced at Ron, who was looking relieved that nothing worse had happened.
"Oppugno!" came a shriek from the doorway. Clara spun around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild. The little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.
"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Clara thought she heard a sob before it slammed. The birds died down the second she left and Clara was left with a bleeding Ron. The door opened one more time, revealing a very confused looking Harry. He stopped, letting the door hit his side as he entered, and looked at Ron and Clara.
"What'd I miss?"