With a bounce in her step, (Y/n) left her dorm alone, for she had skipped breakfast in order to look absolutely perfect for her date. She left the Ravenclaw tower and made for the entrance hall, kindly greeting anyone she knew that she passed. She waited at the oak doors for Harry, who didn't keep her waiting for very long.
Harry's hands grew clammy the moment he caught sight of the pretty (Y/n) whose hair was tied into a ponytail, revealing her decorated ears. She looked around the entrance hall for something interesting. (Y/n) wore a short, maroon silk button-up with an attached piece that wrapped around her stomach and tied in a neat bow off-centre. Her jeans were high-waisted and a faded black and her black flats had bows that went unseen. One of her hands held onto the strap of her red heart-shaped bag whilst a salmon jumper was draped over her other arm.
As though hearing his footsteps, (Y/n) turned and beamed at Harry, though her eyebrows were quick to knit together as she caught sight of his last-minute attempt to flatten his hair. Harry could practically feel his hair rising to its normal state.
"Hi," (Y/n) said, slightly breathlessly.
"Hi," Harry said. They stared at one another for a moment. Things had suddenly felt quite awkward as, while the two had hung out alone before, it had never been considered a date. "Well— er— shall we go, then?"
"Oh— yes..."
Harry and (Y/n) joined the queue of people being signed out by Filch, occasionally catching each other's eye and grinning shiftily. There were several failed attempts to keep things from getting awkward— this was due to Harry making the most generic comments that (Y/n) really couldn't hold a conversation with and (Y/n) receiving short answers from any of her conversation starters. Upon reaching fresh air, the pair seemed to relax partially. It was a fresh, breezy sort of day and as they passed the Quidditch stadium, Ron and Ginny could be seen skimming over the stands. Harry felt a horrible pang that he was not up there with them
"Do you miss it?" (Y/n) asked. Harry looked at her, finding her to be watching him.
"Yeah," sighed Harry. "I do."
"It's pitiful that our first game together was simultaneously our last," (Y/n) said. "We didn't get to play together until our third year on our teams and now you've got a life-long ban."
"No need to remind me," Harry grumbled. (Y/n) smiled.
"Remember our first game?" (Y/n) asked.
"Cho kept blocking me and the rest of the team couldn't dare approach you..."
"And Oliver eventually told you all to just knock us off," (Y/n) laughed. "You reckon he's been promoted to Puddlemere's actual Keeper yet?"
"I ought to write to him," Harry said.
The conversation of Quidditch and past team members carried them out and through the gates, no trace of their previous awkwardness in sight. Talking with one another was just as easy as it was before they shared a kiss, let alone a date. Just as a couple should be, Harry and (Y/n) were comfortable with one another. Before long, Harry could feel (Y/n)'s calmness disappear as a group of girls passed.
"The Plotter and the Harlot," one of the girls screeched, pulling snide giggles from the girls she was with.
"Urgh, (Y/l/n), I don't think you have much taste... At least Warrington was wealthy!" (Y/n) contemplated reminding the girls just who Harry Potter was but ultimately decided against it.
"I reckon they're a good match, though," another girl said, pulling more laughter from the girls. They sped up, talking and shrieking in a pointed fashion with many exaggerated glances back at Harry and (Y/n), leaving an embarrassed silence in their wake. Opting to try and make (Y/n) less livid, Harry shifted the conversation.
"So... where d'you want to go?" Harry asked as they entered Hogsmeade. This question seemed to be the right move, for (Y/n) beamed positively.
"Well, I think I've got an enjoyable day planned for both of us," (Y/n) began. "But it'll be a surprise on your end."
They wandered toward Dervish and Banges. A large poster had been stuck up in the window and a few Hogsmeaders were looking at it. They moved aside when Harry and (Y/n) approached and they were once again staring at the ten pictures of the escaped Death Eaters. The poster ("By Order of Ministry of Magic offered a thousand-Galleon reward to any witch or wizard with information relating to the recapture of any of the convicts pictured. (Y/n) took Harry's sleeve and led him away as to not be overheard.
"For a while, I was wondering just why there were no dementors stationed anywhere— you know, like with Sirius— but I guess it'd be because Fudge has no more control over them anymore, huh?"
"Yeah," said Harry, glancing down High Street. "But I'm honestly glad there's no dementors nearby." (Y/n) nodded in agreement, peering into the windows of every shop window, all of which had the same posters.
"Let's get a drink," (Y/n) spoke. No sooner had she said this, did she flinch at the feeling of a raindrop. They both looked up as a drizzle quickly turned into heavy drops of water. (Y/n) took an umbrella with a rose handle out of her bag and held it above them. "I know it might not be your deal, but would you mind if we went to my favourite cafe? We don't even need to stay there long... Just until the rain stops— I promise I've got a better day planned."
"Yeah, sure. I'll find something," Harry agreed. (Y/n) smoothly slid her hand into Harry's as she took the lead towards the tea shop in question, making sure Harry was staying under the umbrella. Harry caught sight of a tea shop with pink window frames and door with a fading blue sign reading Madam Puddifoot's Tea & Cakes. (Y/n) lowered her umbrella and shook off the excess rain before following after Harry, who was holding the door for her. Retracting her umbrella to its usual small state, (Y/n) looked around the steamy and cramped shop decorated with frills and bows.
"This place reminds me of Umbridge's office," Harry mumbled.
"Oh, don't ruin it for me," (Y/n) said, pouting at him. "She's decorated it for Valentine's Day." She indicated a number of golden cherubs that were hovering over each of the small, circular tables, occasionally throwing pink confetti over the occupants. Harry threw a look down at (Y/n), but she was already walking to the last remaining table, pulling Harry with her. Harry caught sight of a few familiar faces, only a couple of which had waved at him too. Cho and Cedric had whispered to one another, grinning in their direction before waving.
The last table had been situated in the steamy window. Roger Davies was sitting about a foot and a half away with a pretty blonde girl. They were holding hands. (Y/n) pursed her lips, looking positively baffled to see them here.
"How much did he pay you?" (Y/n) asked, leaning over to whisper to the blonde girl, who blinked.
"(Y/n)!" Roger scowled.
"What?" the girl asked.
"I will have you doing laps tomorrow," Roger said. (Y/n) held her hands up in mock surrender.
"Sorry. I just didn't think anyone in their right mind would want to date you," (Y/n) said. The girl grinned and Roger picked up a piece of confetti to throw at (Y/n). It fluttered to the ground without touching her. Before (Y/n) could comment, a stout woman with a shiny black bun, squeezing between their table and Roger's with great difficulty, came before them.
"What can I get you, m'dears?" Madam Puddifoot asked. She looked at (Y/n), who Harry guessed was a frequent visitor. "Surprise you?"
"Something new," (Y/n) smiled. Madam Puddifoot nodded and looked at Harry.
"Er... a coffee," Harry said lamely.
"All right," Madam Puddifoot nodded. After a moment of silence, (Y/n) clipped her earbuds into her walkman and offered one of them to Harry, who hesitantly took it. Upon getting her own earbud in, (Y/n) pressed play on her walkman. Friday I'm In Love played and Harry and (Y/n) had a brief conversation in which Harry teased (Y/n) about knowing how she was feeling based on her music choice.
In the time it took for them to get their drinks, Roger and his girlfriend started kissing over their sugar bowl, pulling grimaces from (Y/n) and Harry for different reasons. The window they were beside was so steamed up they were unable to stare out it. (Y/n) drew a heart on it with her finger. When Harry looked up at the ceiling, he recieved a face full of confetti from their hovering cherub.
After a few moments of silence, (Y/n) brought up Umbridge and the new decree, causing a few happy moments of them abusing her. The topic was short-lived and silence once again fell. (Y/n) returned to doodling on the window until she got bored and looked around. Harry did the same.
Several people were amused by Harry and (Y/n)'s lack of conversation due to them normally being quite talkative and even affectionate with one another. Cedric tried motioning for Harry to talk to (Y/n), but Harry only averted his eyes. (Y/n) was gaping at Dean, who was holding up a small sketchpad that had a simplistic doodle of her and Harry listening to sharing earbuds. Parvati, Lavender, and Padma had tried catching a glimpse, but Dean closed the sketchpad. When Dean made kissy faces at them, Harry looked down at his watch.
"Are you ready to go? I've got to meet Hermione at lunchtime," Harry said. (Y/n) blinked at him.
"You're meeting Hermione?" (Y/n) asked. Harry nodded. "That's nice." (Y/n) stared at Harry, seemingly waiting for something. When she didn't get it, she leaned back in her seat and took a drink, looking as though she didn't think it was nice at all. Harry considered for a moment inviting (Y/n) to the meeting at the Three Broomsticks
They fell silent again and Harry was drinking his coffee so fast that he would soon need a fresh cup. Roger and his girlfriend seemed to be glued by the lips. Harry looked down at (Y/n)'s hand, which lay right night to her drink. He had a fount of mingled panic and excitement inside his chest.
Just as Harry moved his hand forward, (Y/n) took hers off the table to pause her music and put away her walkman. She briefly looked at Dean, who seemed to be extremely cautious over just how icy (Y/n) looked.
"Dean would've taken me out, you know," (Y/n) said in a quiet voice. "But I told him I was really set on spending the day with you."
Harry, who had grabbed the sugar bowl to excuse his sudden lunging movement across the table, could not think why (Y/n) was telling him this. If she wished she were sitting over at Dean's table, why had she agreed to go out with him? He said nothing. Their cherub threw another handful of confetti over them; some of it landed in the last cold dregs of coffee Harry had been about to drink.
"Really?" (Y/n) asked in a small, barely audible voice. She crossed her arms on the table and looked away with angry tears pricking her eyes. She was angry with herself for thinking she was ready for dating and then being upset when someone didn't meet her expectations. Harry heard an "Oh, no." from Parvati but even that did not get Harry to look up from the sugar bowl he held. Unsaid things were left at the tips of Harry and (Y/n)'s tongues.
"Why won't you talk to me?" (Y/n) blurted.
"What?" Harry blinked.
"You keep leaving me wondering what I've done wrong and I always get second-hand information from everyone other than you," (Y/n) murmured.
"I don't do that," Harry denied. (Y/n) rose her eyebrows. "Well... Maybe I do..." he admitted, shifting his eyes from (Y/n). He quickly tried changing the subject. "You've got a Quidditch game in a week!" Harry's voice sounded falsely bright and cheery. To his horror, he saw (Y/n)'s eyes swam with tears. "Look, I don't want to talk about my feelings right now... Let's talk about something else."
This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.
"I thought," (Y/n) said, her tears spattering down onto the table. "I thought you'd understand," her voice cracked. "Surely you n-need someone who you can re-relate to? I mean, we're in the— in the same boat!"
Everything had gone nightmarishly wrong; Roger's girlfriend had even unglued herself to look around at (Y/n) crying.
"Well, I do have someone to talk to," Harry said in a whisper. "Ron and Hermione, but—"
"Of course you'd talk to them," (Y/n) said shrilly, her face shining with tears. Several other kissing couples broke apart to stare. "But you won't talk to me!.. I th-think we're done here... we'll just p-pay and you go and meet up with Hermione, like you want to!" Not waiting for a reply, (Y/n) reached into her bag and took out a Galleon.
"(Y/n)?" Harry said weakly.
"I wasn't aware you and Hermione had become the Golden Duo," (Y/n) sniffled.
And in the heat of the moment, Harry blurted, "No, just the Golden Trio!" There were gasps from the people that actually knew Harry and (Y/n).
"Go on, leave!" (Y/n) said, trying to wipe her tears away with her sleeve but she couldn't stop long enough to keep her face dry. "I don't know why I've even tried if you're going to go and talk to everyone but me! I wasn't aware we had become practical strangers! I wonder how many other people I am a last choice for!"
"It isn't like that!" Harry said, relieved at finally understanding what (Y/n) had been so upset over. He let out a laugh over the fact that (Y/n) didn't know that Harry wasn't talking to her because she was who he was talking about. He realized a split second too late his mistake.
(Y/n) sprang to her feet, slamming her Galleon on the table and grabbing her bag from her chair. The whole tearoom was quiet, and everybody was watching them now.
"I'll see you around, Harry," (Y/n) said dramatically, and hiccuping slightly, she dashed to the door, wrenched it open, and hurried off into the pouring rain, forgetting her umbrella.
"(Y/n)!" Harry called after her, but the door had already swung shut behind (Y/n) with a tuneful tinkle.
There was a total silence within the teashop. Every eye was upon Harry. He threw a Galleon down onto the table, shook pink confetti out of his eyes, and followed (Y/n) out the door.
It was raining hard now, and (Y/n) was nowhere to be seen. Harry simple did not understand what happened; half an hour ago they had been getting along fine.
"Women!" Harry muttered angrily, sloshing down the rain-washed street with one of his hands in his pocket and holding the umbrella above him with the other. "What's she getting at anyway? Why does she always want to drag up a subject that makes her act like a human hosepipe?"