-Million Dollar Man-
-i'd follow you down anywhere-
-one for the money two for the show-
Ron is sitting across from Harry, his skin a nasty shade of green. His leg is jittering so much that it's beginning to shake the table. Harry looks at him worriedly, sipping from his pumpkin juice trying not to seem too overbearing.
"Ron," he says in his most comforting tone, "you'll be fine. You've made loads of progress during practice! Remember that great save you made when Alicia shot at you?"
Ron looks up at him nervously. "That was an accident. I was slipping off my broom and my foot ended up kicking it. I didn't even know the Quaffle was coming at me."
"Oh." Harry sips his pumpkin juice after that.
"Ron, how are you feeling this morning?" A voice asks from behind Harry.
He knows it's Bria. He doesn't have to turn around to know it's her, with her quiet and soothing voice.
She sticks her leg beside Harry to sit down, with Harry shifting over to give her more room, and as a result, bumps his knee against her thigh.
He can feel the tips of his ears turning pink.
"I'm going to be rubbish!"
"You'll be fine," Harry assures him, "you just need to eat some more."
It became clear after ten minutes, however, that Ron couldn't eat anything more and Harry thought it best to get him down to the changing rooms.
As they rise from the table, Bria gets up too, and taking Harry's arm, she draws him to one side.
"Don't let Ron see what's on the Slytherin badges," she whispers in his ear.
Harry gives her a confused look, but she shakes her head and kisses him on the cheek.
For a second, Harry forgot why she would do that. Then he remembers that she did it because she had to.
"Let's go, Hermione," Bria calls out, and Harry looks back to see Hermione saying a hurried response, before getting out of her seat.
"Good luck, Harry!" Hermione calls out, and Harry waves to her and Bria as they walk out of the Great Hall, Harry following Bria's figure the whole way out.
Harry can't pinpoint what he thinks of Bria. he knows that they're much closer this year, that they willingly seek the other person's company, that if it weren't for Bria, Harry doesn't know how his summer would've been like.
He found himself constantly waiting for her letters. They were sporadic over the summer, and they had only exchanged letters a few times, but if provided a beacon of hope and reassurance that he needed that summer.
He knows that they only reason why he even thought about leading the D.A. is because of Bria's support. She had believed that he would be a great teacher, and he trusted her opinions enough to believe her.
He knows that she's a really good friend, and if the other Ravenclaws don't appreciate and value her, then Harry will.
He always will.
Harry knows that this match will be a rough one. Whatever the Slytherin's have up their sleeves, he knows it won't be good. They won't stop at the pins, no, they have something much bigger planned.
Angelina and Montague shake hands, and Madam Hooch lets everyone up into the air. Harry looks back at Ron, who's face is screwed up with anxiety.
The whistle blows, and Harry's sole focus is to catch the Snitch as fast as he can.
"And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me —"
"JORDAN!" yells Professor McGonagall.
"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest — and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's — ouch — been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe. . . . Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and — nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell..."
Lee Jordan's commentary rings through the stadium and Harry listens as hard as he can through the wind whistling in his ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing —
"— dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger — close call, Alicia — and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"
And as Lee pauses to listen the song rises loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.
Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our King.
"— and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouts, and as Harry swerves, his insides boiling at what he has just heard, he knows Lee is trying to drown out the sound of the singing. "Come on now, Angelina — looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! — SHE SHOOTS — SHE — aaaah . . ."
A great swell of song rises from the Slytherin stands below:
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring . . .
"— so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team — come on, Ron!"
But the scream of delight came from the Slytherin end: Ron dives wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle soars between them, straight through Ron's central hoop.
"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below. "So that's ten-nil to Slytherin — bad luck, Ron . . ."
The Slytherins sing even louder:
WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN . . .
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING . . .
Harry did not have to look to see what had happened: There was a terrible groan from the Gryffindor end, coupled with fresh screams and applause from the Slytherins. Looking down, Harry saw the pug-faced Pansy Parkinson right at the front of the stands, her back to the pitch as she conducted the Slytherin supporters who were roaring:
THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING:
WEASLEY IS OUR KING.
But twenty–nil was nothing, there was still time for Gryffindor to catch up or catch the Snitch, a few goals and they would be in the lead as usual.
But Ron let in two more goals. There was an edge of panic in Harry's desire to find the Snitch now. If he could just get it soon and finish the game quickly . . .
"— and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now Angelina — GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty–ten, forty–ten to Slytherin and Pucey has..."
But Harry has seen it at last: The tiny fluttering Golden Snitch was hovering feet from the ground at the Slytherin end of the pitch.
He dives, and in a matter of seconds, Malfoy is streaking out of the sky on Harry's left.
The Snitch skirts the foot of one of the goal hoops and scoots off toward the other side of the stands; its change of direction suits Malfoy, who is nearer. Harry pulls his Firebolt around, he and Malfoy are now neck and neck.
The Snitch is only a few feet from the ground, Harry lifts his right hand from his broom stretching towards the Snitch...
It was over in two breathless, desperate seconds; Harry's fingers close around the tiny ball, Malfoy's fingernails scrubbing the back of Harry's hand hopelessly, Harry pulling his broom upwards holding the ball high in the air as the Gryffindors scream their approval.
They were saved, it did not matter that Ron had let in those goals, nobody would remember as long as Gryffindor had won —
WHAM!
A Bludger hit Harry squarely in the small of the back and he flies forward off his broom; luckily he was only five or six feet above the ground, having dived so low to catch the Snitch, but he was winded all the same as he landed flat on his back on the frozen pitch. He heard Madam Hooch's shrill whistle, an uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering, a thud, then Angelina's frantic voice.
"Are you all right?"
"Course I am," Harry says grimly, taking her hand and allowing her to pull him to his feet. Madam Hooch was zooming toward one of the Slytherin players above him, though he could not see who it was at this angle.
"It was that thug, Crabbe," Angelina says angrily. "He whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch — but we won, Harry, we won!"
Harry heard a snort from behind him and turns around, still holding the Snitch tightly in his hand: Draco Malfoy had landed close by; white-faced with fury, he was still managing to sneer.
"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?" he says to Harry. "I've never seen a worse Keeper . . . but then he was born in a bin. . . . Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"
Harry did not answer; he turned away to meet the rest of the team who were now landing one by one, yelling and punching the air in triumph, all except Ron, who had dismounted from his broom over by the goalposts and was making his way slowly back to the changing rooms alone.
"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Malfoy calls, as Katie and Alicia hug Harry. "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly — we wanted to sing about his mother, see —"
Fred and George had realized what Malfoy was talking about. Halfway through shaking Harry's hand they stiffen, looking around at Malfoy.
"— but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" Malfoy sneers. "Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay —"
Harry grabs hold of George; meanwhile, it is taking the combined efforts of Angelina, Alicia, and Katie to stop Fred from leaping on Malfoy, who is laughing openly. Harry looks around for Madam Hooch, but she was still berating Crabbe for his illegal Bludger attack.
"Or perhaps," said Malfoy, leering as he backed away, "you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it —"
Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy.
He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching; that Bria was watching.
All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy's stomach —
"Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!"
He could hear girls' voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care, not until somebody in the vicinity yelled "IMPEDIMENTA!" and only when he was knocked over backward by the force of the spell did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach. . . .
"What do you think you're doing?" screams Madam Hooch, as Harry leaps to his feet again; it was she who had hit him with the Impediment Jinx.
Malfoy was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody; George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still being forcibly restrained by the three Chasers, and Crabbe was cackling in the background. "I've never seen behavior like it — back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now!"
Harry and George march off the pitch, both panting, neither saying a word to each other. The howling and jeering of the crowd grew fainter and fainter until they reached the entrance hall, where they could hear nothing except the sound of their own footsteps.
Harry became aware that something was still struggling in his right hand, the knuckles of which he had bruised against Malfoy's jaw; looking down he saw the Snitch's silver wings protruding from between his fingers, struggling for release.
They had barely reached the door of Professor McGonagall's office when the door swung open.
"What is wrong with you two!" Professor McGonagall began yelling the second she opened the door. "He'd just lost, hadn't he, of course he wanted to provoke you! But what on earth he can have said that justified what you two —"
"He insulted my parents," snarls George. "And Harry's mother."
"But instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort out, you two decided to give an exhibition of Muggle dueling, did you?" bellows Professor McGonagall. "Have you any idea what you've — ?"
"Hem, hem."
George and Harry both spin around. Umbridge was standing in the doorway wrapped in a green tweed cloak that greatly enhanced her resemblance to a giant toad, and smiling in the horribly sickly, ominous way that Harry had come to associate with imminent misery.
"May I help, Professor McGonagall?" asks Professor Umbridge in her most poisonously sweet voice.
Blood rushes into Professor McGonagall's face.
"Help?" she repeats in a constricted voice. "What do you mean, 'help'?"
Professor Umbridge moves forward into the office, still smiling her sickly smile.
"Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority."
Harry would not have been surprised to see sparks fly from Professor McGonagall's nostrils.
"You thought wrong," she says, turning her back on Umbridge.
"Actually," Umbridge says, pulling a parchment out of her handbag, "punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions, and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, etc., etc . . .'"
She rolls up the parchment and puts it back into her handbag, still smiling.
"So . . . I really think I will have to ban these two from playing Quidditch ever again," she says, looking from Harry to George and back again.
Harry feels the Snitch fluttering madly in his hand.
"Ban us?" he says, and his voice sounded strangely distant. "From playing . . . ever again?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick," says Umbridge, her smile widening still further as she watched him struggle to comprehend what she had said. "You and Mr. Weasley here. And I think, to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped too — if his teammates had not restrained him, I feel sure he would have attacked young Mr. Malfoy as well. I will want their broomsticks confiscated, of course; I shall keep them safely in my office. The rest of the team can continue playing, I saw no signs of violence from any of them. Well . . . good afternoon to you."
And with a look of the utmost satisfaction Umbridge left the room, leaving a horrified silence in her wake.
They turn to look back at Professor McGonagall, who's lips are so pursed they are nearly disappearing.
"You are dismissed," she says in a dangerously low whisper.
Harry and George walk out of the office as fast as they can, rushing to tell Angelina that they can no longer be on the team.
When they reach the common room, Hermione, Ginny, and the rest of the team, minus Ron, are all sitting by the fire. When Harry and George explain their punishment, Angelina looks like she's going to cry.
"Banned," says Angelina in a hollow voice, late that evening in the common room. "Banned. No Seeker and no Beaters . . . What on earth are we going to do?"
"It's just so unfair," says Alicia numbly. "I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? Has she banned him?"
"No," says Ginny miserably; she and Hermione were sitting on either side of Harry. "He just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."
"And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!" says Alicia furiously, pummeling her knee with her fist.
"It's not my fault I didn't," says Fred, with a very ugly look on his face. "I would've pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you three hadn't been holding me back."
They were silent for a very long time.
The portrait door swings open and in walks in Ron and Bria. He was dangerously pale, and looked almost as if he was in a trance. Bria was holding onto Ron's arm, and Harry has the strangest feeling of jealousy rise within him.
He doesn't think he's ever seen Bria hold onto his arm like that.
But he knows that Bria is just doing this out of the kindness of her heart, as she looks over Ron worriedly, her eyes flickering over his body every few seconds.
He wonders if Bria has ever been that concerned about him before.
"Where have you been?" Hermione says anxiously, springing up.
"Walking," Ron mumbles. He was still wearing his Quidditch things.
"I found him in the locker room," Bria says.
"You look frozen," says Hermione. "Come and sit down!"
She helps Ron sit down on the floor, then sits beside him and adjacent to Harry. From sitting in the chair, he has a higher angle and can see the light of the fire reflect on her face. Her skin is perfectly illuminated, her eyes bluer than ever, and the curve of her nose is highlighted by the light.
"I'm sorry," Ron mumbles, looking at his feet.
"What for?" Harry asks.
"For thinking I can play Quidditch. I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow."
"If you resign," Harry says testily, "there'll only be three players left on the team." And when Ron looked puzzled, he said, "I've been given a lifetime ban. So've Fred and George."
"What?" Ron and Bria yelp.
Hermione told them the whole story, while Harry sat there with his leg jittering up and down. As Hermione continues the story, Ron's face begins to look more anguished by the second, and Bria keeps looking at him with those worrying eyes.
"This is all my fault —"
"You didn't make me punch Malfoy," says Harry angrily.
"— if I wasn't so lousy at Quidditch —"
"— it's got nothing to do with that -- "
Hermione stands up and walks to the window, away from the argument, watching the snow swirling down against the pane.
"Look, drop it, will you!" Harry bursts out. "It's bad enough without you blaming yourself for everything!"
Ron says nothing but sat gazing miserably at the damp hem of his robes. After a while he says in a dull voice, "This is the worst I've ever felt in my life."
"Join the club," Harry says bitterly.
Bria simply sits there, saying nothing.
"Well," Hermione perks up, her voice trembling slightly. "I can think of one thing that might cheer you both up."
"Oh yeah?" Harry asks skeptically.
"Yeah," Hermione echos, turning away from the pitch-black, snow-flecked window, a broad smile spreading across her face. "Hagrid's back."
Harry had thought that his life would improve with the return of Hagrid, but his theory had proven wrong far too early. After the run-in with Umbridge at Hagrid's, he forbids them from returning so late and only allows them to talk to him during class or lesson hours.
The only speck of positivity in his life is the D.A. Harry loves coming in once a week to teach everyone; to see their excitement and drive. It's what gets him through December. And sure enough, it was the last meeting before the Holidays.
Harry and Bria decided to come to the Room of Requirement earlier than usual; Harry has had countless detentions and Bria is busy with Quidditch practice, so they haven't had much time to see each other.
The Ravenclaws are currently in the lead for Quidditch, something that Bria has not failed to remind him.
"It's okay to be jealous that my team is in first and yours is in last," she says in a cheery voice.
Harry scoffs. "You're only in first because of what had happened at the last game."
"You mean the game where Ron let in every goal?"
Harry glares at her. Gryffindor has not had another match since the last one Harry had played in, something that Angelina was very grateful for. Today, in fact, they had tryouts to replace Harry, Fred, and George.
When Harry opens the door to the Room, the last thing he has expected is decorations with Harry's face on it. There were over a hundred golden ornaments hanging from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry's face and bearing "HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!"
Bria cackles wildly. "A Harry Christmas!"
"Help me take these down," he mutters, and even though Bria is still laughing, she does as he says.
He pretends to not notice when he sees her pocket a few ornaments in her school bag.
By the time they had taken the last few ornaments down, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia had all arrived.
"We've found your replacements," Angelina says bluntly.
"Who?"
"Ginny Weasley," Katie says, and at the same time, Bria drops an ornament.
He watches her hastily pick it up, her cheeks turning red.
"I didn't know that she played," Harry says, his eyes still following Bria.
"She's pretty good. Nothing on you, of course, but since we can't have you, she's the best bet we got," Angelina tells him.
The arrival of Ron, Hermione, and Neville brought this depressing discussion to an end, and within five minutes, the room was full enough to prevent him from seeing Angelina's burning, reproachful looks.
"Okay," he says, calling them all to order. "I thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far, because it's the last meeting before the holidays and there's no point starting anything new right before a three-week break —"
"We're not doing anything new?" Zacharias asks, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come . . ."
"We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then," Fred yells loudly.
Several people snigger. Harry sees Bria laughing softly and feels the familiar swooping sensation in his stomach, as though he had missed a step going downstairs.
"We can practice in pairs," Harry says. "We'll start with the Impediment Jinx, just for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again."
They all divided up obediently, everyone with their usual partners. The room was soon full of intermittent cries of "Impedimenta!" People froze for a minute or so, during which their partners would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx.
After ten minutes on the Impediment Jinx, they lay out cushions all over the floor and start practicing Stunning again. The space was really too confined to allow them all to work this spell at once; half the group observes the others for a while, then swap over.
Harry feels himself positively swelling with pride as he watches them all. True, Neville did Stun Padma Patil rather than Dean, at whom he had been aiming, but it was a much closer miss than usual, and everybody else had made enormous progress.
At the end of an hour, Harry calls a halt.
"You're getting really good," he says, beaming around at them. "When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff — maybe even Patronuses."
There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual twos and threes; most people wished Harry a Happy Christmas as they went. Feeling cheerful, he collects the cushions with Ron and Hermione and stacks them neatly away.
He thinks that Bria has left without saying goodbye, but glances over and sees her talking with Cho in hushed whispers. He thinks that Cho is crying again.
She hands something to Bria, what looks like a piece of paper, and pulls her into a tight hug. Bria reciprocates just as much, hugging Cho fiercely.
After she releases Bria, she leaves hastily, and Bria is still standing at the entrance with a blank look on her face, clutching the paper.
"We'll see you soon," Hermione whispers to Harry, pulling Ron to the door. When they pass Bria, they both bid her a good holiday, and Bria responds politely but with a hollow voice.
Harry walks over to Bria once Ron and Hermione leave.
"What's that?" He asks, pointing to the piece of paper.
Bria jerks, almost as if she forgot Harry was in the room at all. She shows Harry the picture silently. It was a picture of Cedric.
"He would've been proud of what you're doing. Would've been jealous that he couldn't have been a apart of it too," Bria tells him.
She walks over to the front of the room, and Harry willingly follows. It's like a subconscious response to follow Bria.
He thinks that he could follow her anywhere.
She finds a tape dispenser on the table that the room had definitely procured for her, and tapes the picture to the mirror.
"It won't be a good Christmas," she tells him, devoid of all emotion. Harry has never seen her so desensitized before. "Every Christmas with my parents is awful, but who knows how Rye is going to be this year. Cedric's gone, Michael and I haven't been talking... it'll be a lonely one."
"You could always come back to Grimuald Place," Harry tells her. "I'm positive that Sirius would be glad to see you again."
She shakes her head. "I wish, but I can't. I know my mother was not happy I got to leave the bakery early for school. She'll make me stay at the bakery."
Harry doesn't know what to say to that. If he's being completely honest, he doesn't know what to say to Bria half the time. She seems to be full of wisdom and comforting words, always knowing what to say to someone no matter the context.
Harry has difficulty keeping up with her, and has difficulty in meeting the standards he has placed on himself for this friendship.
She takes a deep breath, and turns to him. "It's late, I can't get in trouble for being out past curfew. Night, Harry."
She leans forward, and Harry assumes that she is going in for a hug, but she comes closer to place a kiss on his cheek, and startled by the action Harry turns his head at the last second and their lips connect instead.
Harry doesn't know why he didn't immediately drawback and apologize, but Bria hasn't done the same so maybe this was something that she wants too.
The first and last time Harry kissed Bria, it was a split-second decision after the Second Task. It was a nervous peck, his first kiss, something that he wanted to get over with, and also curious about what it would be like to kiss someone.
To kiss his girlfriend. To kiss Bria.
He hadn't thought much about it afterward, with the stress of the Triwizard Tournament and the return of Voldemort and the death of Cedric.
This kiss though, it's different.
Harry has the sense to keep his eyes closed, he's pretty sure that's what he's supposed to do after listening to what Fred and George were telling him and Ron one time.
He relies on his other senses to get a grasp of the situation, but the only sense processing is the touch of Bria. He can feel the pressure from her pillow-soft lips and can sense the quickening pulse of her heart.
Harry has never kissed like this before, and he doesn't know if Bria has, but something inside him stirs and he makes the kiss go deeper, as if he had broken a dam that had been building up inside him.
If Harry thought the initial kiss was something, this was a whole other feeling entirely. It was as if Bria was walking on eggshells at first, and when Harry deepened the kiss it awoken something inside her.
She puts her hands on Harry's arms, a feeling that he didn't know he desires. It sends tingles down his spine, and even though it is an innocent display of affection Harry is starting to have the same feeling he did when he was dancing with Bria at the Yule Ball and saw her cleavage in her dress.
Their breathing grows heavier, the kisses get messier, and Harry thinks if this continues he might combust. His arms, which were hanging awkwardly at his side, move to her hips, keeping it in a respectable place.
Touching Bria in such a way is something Harry thought he would never experience. Sure, he's hugged Bria, and held her hand, but to touch her waist in a non-innocent way is a feeling unlike anything else he can describe.
Her body is addicting. He can feel her soft skin through her shirt, can touch the curves of her waist and hips, and as if on instinct Harry wraps his arms around her tighter, pulling her closer to him making Bria let out a soft gasp.
The sound was the most beautiful thing he thinks he has ever heard.
Her hands go up his arms, clutching his biceps, and Harry is glad that he only recently was forced to give up Quidditch because he still has the muscle mass from training.
He doesn't know how long they've been kissing, but Harry has lost a lot of oxygen and his blood is flowing out of his brain and is going somewhere else in his body that he is too embarrassed for Bria to feel.
Reluctantly, he pulls away and opens his eyes. Bria's hair is slightly mused, her lips swollen and dark pink, her eyes in an unfocused daze. Her chest is rising up and down rapidly, her breaths uneven and haggard, and it is doing nothing to stop Harry's growing erection.
He's sure that he looks a little worse for wear as well, if his heavy breathing was any indication. He gulps, and suddenly feels like it's been days since he's had water.
"We should probably go," he manages to get out, his voice coming out a little hoarse.
She nods, although Harry can tell she isn't fully processing what has just happened.
He collects their bags, and follows Bria out of the door.
He walks her down to the Ravenclaw Tower. They don't say anything as he hands her bag and watches as she goes inside the common room.
That night, Harry dreams that he is a snake.
He dreams that he attacks Mr. Weasley.
The dream has come true; the nightmare has come to life.
AN:
I managed to post exactly a week later on time go me! This has to be my favorite chapter yet, and I'm pretty sure it's my longest one. I had to combine two important things here with the quidditch match and the DA meeting, it's just because of the layout I'm deciding to do for this fanfic. I hope the kiss was a good one you guys! Something we have definitely all been waiting for!