A/n : THIS IS MY FAVORITE CHAPTER IN THE BOOK. UNEDITED. Please comment and vote.
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-THIRD PERSON-
Harry found himself immersed in the world of Herbology the next morning. Over breakfast, he refrained from divulging the details of his clandestine meeting with Dumbledore to Ron and Hermione, fearing prying ears. However, as they strolled across the vegetable patch towards the greenhouses, he shared the clandestine encounter with them.
The lingering weekend winds had finally subsided, replaced by the peculiar mist that made locating the correct greenhouse a tad more challenging than usual. As they approached their destination, Harry felt a sense of relief that (Y/n) did not exhibit any awkwardness around him despite his revelations the night before. Nevertheless, a subtle disappointment nagged at him; it seemed she remained unfazed, and he couldn't quite fathom why.
Amidst the gnarled Snargaluff stumps, which constituted the current term's project, the trio took their positions, donning protective gloves. In hushed tones, Ron mused, "Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who," Ron continued, "But I still don't get why Dumbledore's showing you all this. I mean, it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point?"
"Dunno," said Harry, inserting a gum shield. "But he says it's all important and it'll help me survive."
"If Dumbledore says so, it must be crucial," interjected (Y/n).
"Yeah, and I think it's fascinating," said Hermione earnestly. "It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses?" "So how was Slughorn's latest party?" Harry asked her thickly through the gum shield.
"Oh, it was a jolly good time," chimed Hermione, adjusting her protective goggles, while (Y/n) mirrored the action. Hermione, being the sole attendee at last night's party after their conversation, had fabricated an excuse for (Y/n) to relay to Slughorn regarding her absence. According to Hermione, when she informed Slughorn of (Y/n)'s reason for not attending, he remarked that she was akin to Harry – perpetually determined to miss his suppers.
"He did drone on a bit about famous ex-pupils, and he showered McLaggen with attention due to his influential connections," Hermione continued. "But the spread of food was delightful, and he even introduced us to Gwenog Jones."
"Gwenog Jones?" Ron exclaimed, his eyes widening behind his own goggles. "The Gwenog Jones? Captain of the Holyhead Harpies?"
(Y/n) recalled reading about Gwenog Jones, with Ron previously sharing stories about her during their chats back at the Burrow.
"Absolutely right," confirmed Hermione. "Personally, I found her a tad full of herself, but –"
"Enough chatter over there!" interrupted Professor Sprout briskly, striding over with a stern expression. "You're falling behind; everyone else has started, and Neville has already harvested his first pod!"
They turned to see Neville, sporting a bloody lip and a few scratches on his face, but triumphantly holding a pulsating green object about the size of a grapefruit.
"Alright, Professor, we're starting now!" announced Ron, adding quietly as she turned away, "Should've used Muffliato, Harry."
"No, we shouldn't!" retorted Hermione promptly, her expression revealing her persistent disapproval of the Half-Blood Prince and his spells. "Well, come on... we'd better get going."
She cast an apprehensive glance at the others, and collectively, they took a deep breath before launching themselves at the gnarled stump positioned between them. In an instant, the stump came to life, sending out long, prickly vines resembling brambles that whipped through the air. One of the vines entangled itself in Hermione's hair, prompting Ron to fend it off with a pair of secateurs. Meanwhile, Harry successfully captured a couple of vines, knotting them together. Seeing (Y/n) struggling, Harry tapped her shoulder and offered to take over. (Y/n) agreed, allowing him to handle the task. A hole opened in the midst of the tentacle-like branches, and Hermione boldly thrust her arm into it. The hole closed like a trap around her elbow, but with concerted efforts from Harry, (Y/n), and Ron, they managed to force the opening again. Hermione pulled her arm free, clutching a pod identical to Neville's. The prickly vines retracted, leaving the gnarled stump innocently resembling a lifeless piece of wood.
"You know, I don't think I'll be having any of these in my garden when I have my own place," remarked Ron, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead and wiping sweat from his face.
"I find them amusing," countered (Y/n), earning a disbelieving look from Ron.
"You have the worst sense of humor in our family — and I'm including Percy in that."
(Y/n) rolled her eyes in response.
"Pass me a bowl," requested Hermione, holding the pulsating pod at arm's length. Harry handed her one, and she dropped the pod into it with a look of disgust.
"So, are you considering having one of these in your place?" Harry teased (Y/n), who gave him a look. Harry chuckled at her reaction. "This would be a perfect gift for you, then," he added.
"I'd only have one if you were my roommate, and I could place it in your bed while you're sleeping," she replied, her words slipping out without much thought.
"That's an idea," Harry said with a grin.
"Are you planning on marrying each other or something?" Ron interjected, eyeing the two.
"No," (Y/n) responded instantly, glaring at Harry, who remained silent.
"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out; they're best when they're fresh!" Professor Sprout called suddenly.
"Anyway," Hermione persisted, resuming their conversation as if a lump of wood hadn't just launched an attack, "Slughorn is hosting a Christmas party, Harry, and Sabrina, and there's no escaping this one. He actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he can ensure it aligns with a night you two can attend."
Harry groaned audibly, and (Y/n) sighed. She had no desire to attend Slughorn's party, recalling McLaggen's unsettling stares and his proposition after the last gathering, that she attended. Meanwhile, Ron, attempting to burst the pod in the bowl by pressing both hands on it, stood up and squashed it as hard as he could, muttering angrily, "And this is another party just for Slughorn's favourites, is it?"
"You know, I'd love to switch places with you, Ron, so that you stop being so bitter about it and understand how tedious it is — especially when boys keep giving you these stares like –"
"Who?" Harry asked curiously, interrupting (Y/n), as he hadn't attended any suppers with Slughorn yet and was unaware of the atmosphere.
"Just for the Slug Club, yes," Hermione interjected, cutting off Harry and (Y/n) as Ron's frustration grew.
The pod slipped from Ron's fingers, hitting the greenhouse glass and rebounding onto the back of Professor Sprout's head, knocking off her old patched hat. Harry retrieved the pod, and upon his return, (Y/n) was giving the two an annoyed look. Hermione was saying, "Look, I didn't make up the name 'Slug Club' –"
"'Slug Club'," Ron repeated with a sneer worthy of Malfoy. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try getting off with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug –"
"I can't understand why you want to be a part of that slug club when it's just so useless, boring, and infuriating," (Y/n) remarked, glaring at Ron.
Ron glared back, and both of them resembled tomatoes emitting smoke.
"We're allowed to bring guests," Hermione interjected once again, now a bright, boiling scarlet, "and I was going to ask you, Ron, to come, but if you think it's that stupid, then I won't bother!"
(Y/n) and Harry observed the exchange. Harry seized the bowl containing the pod and began attempting to open it in the noisiest and most energetic manner (Y/n) had ever witnessed.
"What are you doing?" (Y/n) asked, annoyed, grabbing Harry's arm. He looked at her. "What? I'm just doing some work here."
(Y/n) stared at him seriously.
"You were going to ask me?" Ron's voice interrupted them, sounding completely different.
"Yes," Hermione replied angrily. "But obviously, if you'd rather I got off with McLaggen..."
There was a pause, and then Harry continued pounding the resilient pod with a trowel, while (Y/n) allowed him to do so.
"No, I wouldn't," Ron admitted in a very quiet voice.
Harry missed the pod, hit the bowl, and it shattered.
"Harry!" exclaimed (Y/n).
"I just missed," he said, "Reparo," he added hastily, poking the pieces with his wand, and the bowl sprang back together again.
The crash, however, seemed to jolt Ron and Hermione into acknowledging Harry's and (Y/n)'s presence. Hermione appeared flustered and immediately began rummaging for her copy of Flesh-Eating Trees of the World to determine the correct method for juicing Snargaluff pods. On the other hand, Ron looked sheepish but also rather pleased with himself, deliberately avoiding (Y/n)'s growing smirk.
"Hand that over, Harry," Hermione urged, "it says we're supposed to puncture them with something sharp..."
Harry passed her the pod in the bowl. He and Ron swiftly snapped their goggles back over their eyes and dived once more for the stump.
(Y/n) noticed that Harry seemed somewhat distracted, glancing at her every few seconds as though wanting to say something before refocusing on wrestling with a thorny vine determined to throttle him. She wondered about his thoughts and made a mental note to inquire later, lending him a hand in the struggle.
"Gotcha!" yelled Ron, extracting a second pod from the stump just as Hermione successfully burst the first one open. The bowl was now filled with tubers wriggling like pale green worms.
The remainder of the lesson progressed without any further mention of Slughorn's party.
Over the next few days, (Y/n) and Harry observed that Ron and Hermione were unusually polite to each other. Meanwhile, Harry had more pressing concerns on his mind.
Katie Bell lingered in St Mungo's Hospital, an absent Chaser leaving Harry's promising Gryffindor team incomplete. Harry, optimistic for her return, postponed finding a replacement until the looming match against Slytherin forced him to face the reality that Katie wouldn't be back in time.
"Why not find a replacement? If you're not keen on another house tryout," (Y/n) suggested after hearing his concerns.
"Yeah, I suppose I could do that." Harry agreed, not giving it much thought. "Any ideas on who could replace Katie Bell for the moment?"
"Why are you asking me? You're the captain," (Y/n) replied, disbelief tinting her laughter.
"Yeah, but you're my boss," Harry grinned, playfully.
"What?" (Y/n) asked, incredulous.
"I mean, you have great ideas, so I'm counting on you for this one," Harry said, as if presenting evidence to support his claim.
(Y/n) rolled her eyes at him.
"Not really."
"Just help me out on this one, please?"
"Alright, alright," she replied, shaking her head. After contemplating for a moment, she suggested, "Dean. I've played with him and Seamus before, and I think Dean's decent enough. He's got some skills, and that will make Ginny thrilled." She looked at Harry, expecting a reaction, but he simply smiled and agreed.
Harry approached Dean Thomas after Transfiguration one day. Most of the class had already left, and the room was filled with twittering yellow birds – creations of Hermione and (Y/n). No one else had managed to conjure even a feather from thin air.
"Are you still interested in playing Chaser?"
"Wha—? Yeah, of course!" said Dean eagerly.
Over Dean's shoulder, Harry noticed Seamus Finnigan packing his bag with a sour expression. One reason Harry hesitated to ask Dean was the knowledge that Seamus wouldn't like it. (Y/n) was right that Dean was skilled enough to replace Katie, and Harry had to prioritize the team. Besides, Dean had out-flown Seamus at the tryouts.
"Well then, you're in," said Harry. "There's practice tonight, seven o'clock."
"Right," said Dean. "Cheers, Harry! Blimey, I can't wait to tell Ginny!"
Dean hurried out, leaving Harry and Seamus alone. The awkward moment didn't ease when a bird dropping landed on Seamus's head from one of (Y/n) or Hermione's canaries zooming above them.
Seamus wasn't the only one displeased with Katie's substitute. Murmurs in the common room circulated about Harry choosing classmates for the team. (Y/n) kept apologizing to Harry, feeling responsible for the talk behind his back.
"Do you think those mutterings still bother me?" Harry started to say during one of her apologies. "I've heard worse. You know, so stop thinking it's your fault."
(Y/n) just stared at him, ignoring the fact that he had just messed her perfectly comb hair, and from that point on, she stopped apologizing.
The pressure hung thick in the air as the Gryffindor team geared up for the imminent match against Slytherin. Harry sensed that a victory would swiftly erase the previous criticisms and prompt the entire house to sing praises of the team's prowess. However, if they were to lose, Harry mused wryly, he had endured worse mutterings in the past. The weight of Gryffindor's expectations pressed on him.
Harry's confidence in (Y/n)'s choice of replacing Katie with Dean soared as he observed Dean's performance during the evening practice. Dean seamlessly blended with (Y/n), Ginny, and Demelza, while the Beaters, Peakes and Coote, were steadily improving.
The lone problem remained Ron.
Harry had always been aware of Ron's inconsistency on the pitch, plagued by nerves and a lack of confidence. Unfortunately, the impending season opener exacerbated Ron's old insecurities.
After letting in half a dozen goals, predominantly scored by (Y/n) followed by Ginny, Ron's technique spiraled into chaos. In a moment of frantic flailing, he accidentally punched (Y/n) in the mouth.
"It was an accident, I'm sorry, Sabrina, really sorry!" Ron shouted after her as she zigzagged back to the ground, blood dripping from her mouth. "I just –"
"Panicked," Ginny said angrily, landing next to (Y/n), who groaned in pain while examining her swollen lips.
"You prat, Ron, look at the state of her!"
"Dun wer-eh, Chineh," mumbled (Y/n), attempting to speak despite her injured mouth.
"Excuse me, Ginny, I'll fix her lip," said Harry, touching down beside the two girls. Ginny stepped away, leaving Harry looking both annoyed at Ron and concerned for (Y/n). He instantly cupped (Y/n)'s face, examining her swollen lips. "Damn it, Ron," he mumbled. Meeting her eyes, which had a hint of dried tears, Harry sighed and bit his lower lip. He pointed his wand at (Y/n)'s mouth, uttering, "Episkey."
"Do you feel better now?" he asked, still holding her cheeks.
"Y-yeah, thanks," she replied, blushing and clearing her throat.
"Do you want to rest?" he inquired.
"No, let's keep practicing. I didn't break any bones or whatever," she said, putting away Harry's hand from her face when she noticed Ginny looking at them, as if biting her lower lip to stifle a smirk.
"But—"
"Seriously, it's not something serious," she asserted sternly, causing Harry to rub his two fingers across the bridge of his nose, his other hand on his waist.
"Right," he said, then turned to Ginny, "And Ginny, don't call Ron a prat. You're not the captain of this team—"
Ginny looked offended, and (Y/n) sighed, rolling her eyes at Harry.
"Well, you seemed too busy staring at Sabrina to call him a prat, and I thought someone should—"
Harry blushed.
"In the air, everyone, let's go... and Ron, focus, and be careful not to hit anyone again."
"Sorry!"
Overall, it was one of the worst practices they had all term, though Harry didn't feel that honesty was the best policy this close to the match.
"Good work, everyone. I think we'll flatten Slytherin," he said bracingly. The Chasers and Beaters left the changing room looking reasonably content.
(Y/n) gave him a ridiculous look, to which he replied with a raised eyebrow.
"I played like a sack of dragon dung," said Ron in a hollow voice when the door had swung shut behind Ginny and (Y/n).
"No, you didn't," said Harry firmly. "You're the best Keeper I tried out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves."
Harry maintained a constant stream of encouragement all the way back to the castle, and by the time they reached the second floor, Ron appeared marginally more cheerful. However, when Harry pushed open the tapestry for their usual shortcut to Gryffindor Tower, they were met with Dean and Ginny locked in a close embrace, kissing fervently as if glued together.
Ron's voice reached Harry as though from a great distance.
"Oi!"
Dean and Ginny broke apart, looking around.
"What?" said Ginny.
"I don't want to find my own sister snogging people in public!"
"This was a deserted corridor till you came butting in!" retorted Ginny.
Dean seemed embarrassed, giving Harry a shifty grin, which Harry swiftly returned.
"C'mon, Ginny," said Dean, "let's go back to the common room ..."
"You go!" said Ginny. "I want a word with my dear brother!"
Dean left, looking as though he was not sorry to depart the scene.
"Right," said Ginny, tossing her long red hair out of her face and glaring at Ron, "let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron –"
"Yeah, it is!" said Ron, just as angrily. "D'you think I want people saying my sister's a –"
"A what?" shouted Ginny, drawing her wand. "A what, exactly?"
"He doesn't mean anything, Ginny –" said Harry automatically.
"Oh yes, he does!" she said, flaring up at Harry. "Just because he's never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he's ever had is from our Auntie Muriel –"
"Shut your mouth!" bellowed Ron, bypassing red and turning maroon.
"No, I will not!" yelled Ginny, drawing out her wand, "I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it's pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"
Ron had pulled out his wand too; Harry stepped swiftly between them.
"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron roared, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around Harry, who was now standing in front of her with his arms outstretched.
"Just because I don't do it in public –!"
Ginny screamed with derisive laughter, trying to push Harry out of the way.
"Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?"
"You –"
A streak of orange light flew under Harry's left arm and missed Ginny by inches; Harry pushed Ron up against the wall.
"Don't be stupid –"
"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" Ginny's words lingered, laden with emotion. "Sabrina snogged James Frazer! And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum. It's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!" Ginny, close to tears, delivered this revelation before storming away, leaving an atmosphere of tension and shock.
Harry quickly released his grip on Ron, feeling as though his heart had plummeted to his stomach at Ginny's words. The expression on Ron's face bordered on murderous. Both of them remained frozen, breathing heavily, until the sudden appearance of Mrs Norris, Filch's cat, around the corner disrupted the charged atmosphere.
"C'mon," urged Harry, as the shuffling footsteps of Filch approached.
They hastened up the stairs, navigating through a seventh-floor corridor.
"Oi, out of the way!" Ron barked at a small girl, causing her to jump in fright and drop a bottle of toad-spawn.
The shattering glass barely registered with Harry, who felt disoriented and dizzy, as if struck by a lightning bolt.
It's just because she's Ron's sister, your best friend, he told himself. You just didn't like thinking about James Frazer kissing Sabrina, because she's your best friend...
Unbidden, an image forcefully etched itself into his mind – the Three Broomsticks, where he found himself in a surreal moment, locked in a passionate kiss with Sabrina. The monstrous sensation in his chest purred with an unsettling satisfaction. However, this idyllic scene shattered when Ron, like a tempest, flung the door open, brandishing his wand at Harry. Accusations of betrayal and shattered trust echoed in the air.
A cloud of uncertainty enveloped Harry. But did Sabrina truly kiss James Frazer? He had assumed they were close enough for such confidences, especially after their shared kiss at the train station. But he dismissed it as an accidental collision of lips, a moment that didn't count in the grand scheme of things.
As they neared the Fat Lady, Ron abruptly asked, "D'you think Hermione did snog Krum?" Harry, guiltily entangled in thoughts of the Three Broomsticks where Ron had no place, struggled to refocus.
"What?" he stammered. "Oh ... er ..."
Though the truthful answer was a reluctant "yes," Harry hesitated. Ron, interpreting the unease on his face, darkly uttered the password to the Fat Lady, "Dilligrout," and they entered the common room in silence.
The names Sabrina and Hermione hung in the air like unspoken spells. The two friends barely exchanged words that evening, slipping into bed with minds entangled in their own contemplations.
Harry lay awake in the dim glow of the dormitory, his gaze fixed on the intricate canopy of his four-poster bed. He wrestled with the elusive notion that his feelings for Sabrina were purely of the best-friend-brotherly ilk. After all, hadn't they spent six years at Hogwarts, living as inseparable as siblings?
The past summer was a montage of Quidditch matches, teasing Ron, and laughter over topics that seemed beyond their comprehension. Sabrina, too, had been a fixture in his life, a best friend and the sister of his closest companion. It was only natural for him to feel a protective instinct, to want to shield her from any harm – especially from the likes of Frazer. The thought of Sabrina and Frazer together ignited a fierce protective fervor within him, a brotherly urge to rip Frazer limb from limb, a sentiment he knew he had to control.
Amidst these contemplations, Ron emitted a great grunting snore, a reminder of the close quarters of their shared dormitory.
She's Ron's sister, Harry repeated to himself, attempting to establish mental boundaries. Ron's sister. And not just that, she's your best friend. Out of bounds. He was resolute in preserving his friendship with Ron and not jeopardizing his growing realization about Sabrina. He punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape, hoping to ward off sleep, determined not to let his thoughts wander towards Sabrina.
Morning crept in, leaving Harry in a state of mild disarray, tangled in the remnants of dreams where Ron pursued him with a Beater's bat. By midday, however, a longing for the real Ron overcame the surreal echoes of dream-Ron's aggression. The actual Ron, now a cold front, turned away from Ginny, Dean, and an oblivious Sabrina, who persistently attempted to engage Harry in conversation, only to receive curt responses. The perplexity deepened as Ron transformed overnight into a volatile force, resembling a Blast-Ended Skrewt, unleashing icy indifference upon Hermione and leaving her hurt and bewildered.
Throughout the day, Harry futilely tried to mediate peace between Ron and Hermione. Simultaneously, he wrestled with the notion of approaching Sabrina to confirm whether she and Frazer had indeed shared a kiss. His efforts proved fruitless as classes concluded, with Frazer inviting her for a stroll around the castle. Hermione departed for bed in high dudgeon, and Ron, seething with anger, stomped off to the boys' dormitory, casting furious glares at first-years who dared to look at him.
As Harry ascended the stairs to follow Ron, he heard Sabrina calling his name. He turned, raising his eyebrows at her.
(Y/n) appeared completely annoyed.
"Let's talk," she said.
"I'm sorry, but I'm tired," Harry replied.
(Y/n) stared at him, studying his face while biting her lower lip. Harry couldn't help but glance at her lip, immediately berating himself for doing so. Thoughts of James Frazer biting it crossed his mind, igniting an unexpected desire to hex him into a toenail, a thought he quickly dismissed.
"If you want to talk, you can save it for tomorrow," He added, suddenly cold.
He observed a fleeting moment where (Y/n)'s expression morphed into a mix of surprise and hurt. Guilt flooded him instantly, but before he could retract his words, (Y/n) turned around and hurried towards the girls' dormitory. He sighed, running his hand through his already tousled hair, feeling the weight of the day settle upon him.
☙♡❦
The next day, Harry made an effort to locate (Y/n) and offer an apology, but she remained elusive. She wasn't in the common room or the Great Hall during breakfast and lunch. The only time he glimpsed her was in classes. His frustration peaked when he discovered her with James Frazer by the black lake (their usual spot), a spot he had chosen to visit before dinner in the hope of finding her there. However, she wasn't alone, and with a clenched jaw, Harry decided to leave them undisturbed.
Adding to Harry's dismay, Ron's newfound aggression lingered over the next few days. This coincided with a further decline in his Keeping skills, intensifying his aggressiveness. During the final Quidditch practice before Saturday's match, Ron failed to save a single goal, and his yelling reduced Demelza Robins to tears. Witnessing this, (Y/n) became furious.
"Maybe if you focused on blocking goals as much as you did on your yelling, we'd actually have a decent keeper on the team!" (Y/n) yelled furiously.
Equally incensed, Ron retorted, "What did you just say?" The vein on his neck pulsated.
"What? Are your ears as bad as your keeping ability?" (Y/n) shot back.
"SHUT UP!" Ron roared, his face reddening as he drew his wand.
"YOU SHUT UP!" (Y/n) countered, drawing her wand too, echoing Ginny's actions from the other day. Tension crackled between them like an impending storm.
"WHY DON'T YOU JUST GO TO THAT FRAZER BLOKE THAT YOU JUST MET THIS YEAR AND GO BACK TO SNOGGING HIM LIKE A — LIKE A —" Harry sensed the impending storm of Ron's words, but before he could step in —
"You shut up and leave her alone!" shouted Peakes, a figure about two-thirds Ron's height but carrying a heavy bat, bravely challenging the towering aggression.
"ENOUGH!" bellowed Harry, as Ginny glared in Ron's direction. Remembering her prowess with the Bat-Bogey Hex, she soared over to intervene before matters spiraled out of control. "Peakes, go and pack up the Bludgers. Demelza, pull yourself together, you played really well today. Sabrina..." But (Y/n) had already touched the ground, and Harry watched her figure with a sigh before turning back to face Ron. "Ron..." he waited until the rest of the team was out of earshot before continuing, "you're my best mate, but continue treating the rest of them like this, and I'm going to kick you off the team."
For a moment, Harry thought Ron might resort to physicality, but then something worse transpired: Ron seemed to deflate on his broom. All the fight drained from him, and he uttered, "I resign. I'm pathetic, you heard what Sabrina said."
"You're not pathetic and you're not resigning!" Harry declared fiercely, gripping the front of Ron's robes. "She's just mad at you, but you can save anything when you're on form; it's a mental problem you've got!"
"You calling me mental?"
"Yeah, maybe I am!"
They locked eyes in a fierce glare for a moment, then Ron shook his head wearily.
"I know you haven't got any time to find another Keeper, so I'll play tomorrow, but if we lose, and we will, I'm taking myself off the team."
☙♡❦
Breakfast unfolded as the usual excitable affair the next morning; the Slytherins hissed and booed loudly as every member of the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall.
Harry glanced upwards, catching sight of a clear, pale blue sky – a promising omen.
The Gryffindor table, a vibrant mass of red and gold, erupted in cheers 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.
"Tea?" Harry asked him. "Coffee? Pumpkin juice?"
"Anything," said Ron glumly, taking a moody bite of toast.
A few minutes later, Hermione, weary of Ron's recent unpleasant behavior and opting to skip breakfast with them, and Sabrina, equally tired for reasons she couldn't decipher as Harry seemed to be avoiding her, paused on their way up the table.
"How are you both feeling?" Hermione asked tentatively, her gaze fixed on the back of Ron's head.
"Fine," said Harry, concentrating on handing Ron a glass of pumpkin juice, making a deliberate effort not to look at Sabrina. "There you go, Ron. Drink up."
Ron had just raised the glass to his lips when Hermione spoke sharply.
"Don't drink that, Ron!"
Both Harry and Ron looked up at her, and Sabrina's mouth was agape, looking at Harry in disbelief.
"Why not?" said Ron.
Hermione was now staring at Harry as though she couldn't 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 saw it too," said Sabrina chiming in.
"I don't know what you are talking about, Hermione," said Harry, hastily stowing the little bottle 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 and said, "Stop bossing me around, Hermione." She looked scandalised. Bending low so that only Harry and Sabrina could hear her, she hissed, "You should be expelled for that. I'd never have believed it of you, Harry!"
"Hark who's talking," he whispered back. "Confunded anyone lately?" She stormed up the table away from them. Harry watched her go without regret. Hermione had never really understood what a serious business Quidditch was.
"You're an idiot," said (Y/n) angrily, smacking Harry's head as much as she could. Harry groaned painfully and glared at her, but when he saw how sharp her gaze was, he looked away, holding the part where he had been hit.
Then (Y/n) followed Hermione.
Rubbing the spot where (Y/n) had hit him, he then looked round at Ron, who was smacking his lips.
"Nearly time," said Harry.
The frosty grass crunched underfoot as they strode down to the stadium. (Y/n) wasn't with them; Harry saw James Frazer heading to the part of the Gryffindor table where Hermione and (Y/n) were sitting before he and Ron exited the Great Hall.
"Pretty lucky the weather's this good, eh?" Harry asked Ron.
"Yeah," said Ron, who looked pale and sick.
Ginny and Demelza were already wearing their Quidditch robes and waiting in the changing room.
"Conditions look ideal," said Ginny, ignoring Ron. "And guess what? That Slytherin Chaser Vaisey – he took a Bludger in the head yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play! And even better than that – Malfoy's gone off sick too!"
"What?" said Harry, wheeling round to stare at her. "He's ill? What's wrong with him?"
The door opened, and (Y/n) entered, completely ignoring Harry and Ron.
"No idea, but it's great for us," said Ginny brightly, glancing at (Y/n) for a few seconds. "They're playing Harper instead; he's in my year, and he's an idiot."
Harry smiled vaguely back, but as he pulled on his scarlet robes, his mind was far from Quidditch.
"Fishy, isn't it?" he said in an undertone to Ron as (Y/n) donned her scarlet robes, while Ginny said something to her that made her roll her eyes. "Malfoy not playing?"
"Lucky, I call it," said Ron, looking slightly more animated. "And Vaisey off too, he's their best goal-scorer. I didn't fancy – hey!" he said suddenly, freezing halfway through pulling on his Keeper's gloves and staring at Harry.
"What?"
"I ... you ..." Ron had dropped his voice; he looked both scared and excited. "My drink ... my pumpkin juice ... you didn't ...?"
Harry raised his eyebrows but said nothing, except, "We'll be starting in about five minutes; you'd better get your boots on."
They walked out onto the pitch to tumultuous roars and boos.
One end of the stadium was solid red and gold; the other, a sea of green and silver. As the cheers and jeers reverberated, Harry's attention was momentarily diverted as he noticed (Y/n) smiling and waving at someone in the stands. He didn't need to follow her gaze to know who it was, as a beast in his chest suddenly awakened again. Looking away, he saw that many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had taken sides, too; amidst all the yelling and clapping, Harry could distinctly hear the roar of Luna Lovegood's famous lion-topped hat.
Harry stepped up to Madam Hooch, the referee, who was standing ready to release the balls from the crate.
"Captains, shake hands," she said, and Harry had his hand crushed by the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart. "Mount your brooms. On the whistle ... three ... two ... one ..."
The whistle sounded, Harry and the others kicked off hard from the frozen ground, and they were away.
Harry soared around the perimeter of the grounds, looking for the Snitch and keeping one eye on Harper, who was zigzagging far below him. The cold air whipped against his face as the excitement of the game enveloped him, momentarily distracting him from the complex emotions stirring within.
☙♡❦
"YES!" Harry yelled, wheeling round, hurtling back towards the ground, the Snitch held high in his hand.
As the crowd realized what had happened, a great shout went up, almost drowning the sound of the whistle that signaled the end of the game.
"Ginny, where're you going?" yelled (Y/n), expecting Ginny to join the midair hug with Harry. However, Ginny sped right past them until, with an almighty crash, she collided with the commentator's podium.
(Y/n) was impressed.
Amidst the crowd's shrieks and laughter, the Gryffindor team landed beside the wreckage of wood under which Zacharias was feebly stirring. (Y/n) heard Ginny saying blithely to an irate Professor McGonagall, "Forgot to brake, Professor, sorry."
(Y/n) couldn't help but laugh, but she was surprised when Harry broke free of the rest of the team and hugged her, only to let go very quickly. Avoiding her gaze, as though he just realized he had inexplicably ignored her, he clapped a cheering Ron on the back instead. All enmity forgotten, the Gryffindor team left the pitch arm in arm, punching the air and waving to their supporters.
The atmosphere in the changing room was jubilant.
"Party up in the common room, Seamus said!" yelled Dean exuberantly. "C'mon, Ginny, Sabrina, Demelza!"
"You go ahead," said (Y/n), untying her hair in a braid. Harry watched as her hair fell to her waist, momentarily distracted.
(Y/n), Ron, and Harry were the last three in the changing room. They were just about to leave when Hermione entered. She was twisting her Gryffindor scarf in her hands and looked upset but determined.
"I want a word with you, Harry." She took a deep breath.
"I'll be surprised if Harry talks to you when he looks like he's too tired to talk," said (Y/n) sarcastically, giving Harry a dirty look as she pulled her robes away.
Harry gave her a look.
"You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, it's illegal," Hermione continued.
"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 so that the three of them would see him grinning. But (Y/n) saw it.
"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" said Hermione shrilly. "You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!"
"No, I didn't," said Harry, turning back to face them both.
"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, now grinning broadly. He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and drew out the tiny bottle that Hermione and (Y/n) 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; he had not expected his plan to backfire like this, "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 with a dramatic swish of her robes, she stormed out of the changing room, leaving a lingering tension behind.
Now, within the confined space, it was just Harry and (Y/n) inside the room. "brilliant plan, Potter," (Y/n) sneered sarcastically, her eyes shooting daggers at him. "Really brilliant plan."
"I didn't foresee this," he replied, turning to meet her gaze. "And drop the 'Potter'."
(Y/n) chuckled sarcastically, crossing her arms defiantly. "Yeah, sure, Potter."
She gave Harry a mocking look worthy of Malfoy and prepared to stride past him when he swiftly grabbed her arm, turning her around to face him. The unexpected move caught her off guard.
"Let's talk," he asserted firmly.
"Let go of my arm, Potter," she demanded, her eyes locked onto his without a hint of yielding.
"Make me," Harry challenged, his expression unwavering.
"I'll hex you," she warned, her tone serious.
"Do it, and I'll kiss you," Harry threatened, causing (Y/n) to blink in disbelief, her seriousness momentarily shattered.
"WHAT?" she exclaimed.
"You heard me," replied Harry, maintaining his stern look. (Y/n) let out a derisive laugh.
"And you seriously think that would threaten me?" she scoffed.
"Hex me, and we'll see," Harry challenged, holding his ground.
For a few tense moments, both Harry and (Y/n) locked eyes, each daring the other to back down.
"One minute," (Y/n) finally declared.
"What?" It was Harry's turn to express confusion.
"I'll grant you one minute to elucidate why you've suddenly been avoiding me. If your explanation is daft, I'll hex you – and if you attempt to kiss me, I'll kill you even before Voldemort can manage it himself!"
"I haven't been avoiding you!"
"Forty-five seconds."
"Look, I haven't been avoiding you—"
"Thirty seconds."
"Alright, alright," Harry conceded, sensing the dwindling time. (Y/n) raised an expectant eyebrow, waiting for his response. "I was just... Ginny told Ron that you snogged James Frazer." Harry cringed inwardly at how foolish he sounded.
(Y/n) gaped at him.
"And I... I don't know, it made me somewhat mad because... you never told me about that – not that you're obliged to – but I – you know – I just thought – we're closer than that – and I feel like... I don't know. And now that I'm saying this stuff to you, I... I realize how wrong I am, for yeah... I did avoid you."
"Wait... wait..." said (Y/n), shaking her head in disbelief, "Ginny said that I snogged James?"
Harry nodded solemnly.
"And you believed that?" (Y/n) questioned, frustration boiling in her voice. Harry stared at her, dumbfounded.
"W...wait... It wasn't true?" he stammered.
"No!" she exclaimed, her eyes revealing hurt and exasperation. "Why would I kiss someone that's not my boyfriend?"
"Then why did Ginny..." Harry started, trailing off.
"Because that's what she thought! She saw me and James once outside the Gryffindor Tower, and James leaned in, and from a distance, it looked like he's kissing me. Ginny saw that, but she didn't believe me and kept teasing me about it! Oh my gosh, Harry! You're so stupid! And is that why Ron said that I snogged James? My goodness!"
"I'm... I'm sorry," Harry mumbled, a palpable sense of regret in his words, swearing at himself for his foolishness.
"Yeah? And anyway, what is it to you if I did snog James?" (Y/n) asked, her annoyance laced with a mix of confusion and hurt.
"I don't know... maybe... because..."
"Because WHAT, Harry?"
"Because you're Ron's sister...?" It sounded more like a hesitant question than he intended it to be. (Y/n)'s eyes betrayed a fleeting hurt, quickly replaced by a flash of anger.
"Ron's sister? Seriously? I'm just that to you? Not even 'your best friend,' but Ron's sister?" The hurt in (Y/n)'s voice reverberated, casting a poignant shadow over the conversation.
Harry anxiously chewed on his lower lip, the unspoken words pressing on his chest. There was a truth he needed to voice, a realization that had been gnawing at him for days, a truth he hesitated to reveal because he knew it could alter the course of their friendship. "No, it's not just because you're Ron's sister. It's more complicated than that," he began tentatively, his eyes revealing a mix of vulnerability and longing.
"No, you're, right, I'm Ron's sister, so it shouldn't matter to you if I snogged James or some other bloke!" (Y/n) retorted sharply, her frustration and hurt manifesting in each syllable as she threw the words at him.
"No, you don't understand, Sabrina—" Harry tried to explain, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the tangled thoughts.
"What don't I understand? When you made it absolutely clear—" (Y/n) was abruptly silenced when, without forethought, without consideration for consequences, Harry seized her, pulling her closer. There was urgency in the way he cupped her chin, and without hesitation, he crashed his lips into hers, a desperate attempt to convey what words seemed to fail.
Harry expected resistance, braced himself for her to push him away, to unleash her anger, or perhaps even cast a hex upon him. However, (Y/n) remained stiff for a few moments, seemingly frozen in shock. Then, to Harry's astonishment, she closed her eyes and kissed him back. The exchange was sloppy, charged with unspoken confirmation that seemed to echo through their connection.
Inexperienced in such intimate moments, Harry guided (Y/n) in the kiss. Their embrace was intense and imperfect, as if the very act of kissing conveyed emotions that words couldn't express. They only paused when necessity dictated, their breaths mingling in the charged air. This kiss was a departure for Harry, unlike anything he had felt before, even with Cho. It felt right in a way nothing else had.
As the kiss deepened, (Y/n) suddenly groaned, the contact of her waist against the table's edge causing a reaction. Without breaking the kiss, Harry lifted her, seating her on the edge of the table. Standing between her, he guided (Y/n)'s hands to his neck, continuing the intense exchange. Harry softly bit her lower lip, and just as the passion reached its peak, (Y/n) abruptly stiffened, hastily pulling away from the kiss as if struck by a sudden realization.
"Why?" gasped Harry, his voice hanging in the air like a fragile thread, woven with concern. "Did I bite you too hard?" An undercurrent of worry painted his words, and their faces hovered perilously close.
"No," (Y/n) replied, vehemently shaking her head.
Harry moved to cradle her face, intending to draw her gaze, but she swiftly placed a hand on his chest, creating a palpable distance between them.
"Why? What's the matter?" Harry inquired, his heart sinking at the notion that she might not have enjoyed the kiss.
"No—this is all wrong—what was I even thinking?" (Y/n) exclaimed in frustration, causing Harry's heart to plummet to the pit of his stomach.
"Wrong? What do you mean, wrong?" he asked, as if desperately hoping for a misinterpretation. "If you're fretting about Ron hexing me because he thinks it's inappropriate that I kissed his sister behind his back—you don't need to worry about that," he reassured, squeezing her hand for solace. "It's probably just a few punches and hexes. I've faced worse—and one of those was a killing curse, if you catch my drift. If the price to date you is dealing with Ron's disapproval—I can handle it."
(Y/n) remained silent.
"Hey," Harry whispered gently, his heart breaking at her reaction.
"No, Harry—this is wrong. I shouldn't have done this—I shouldn't have kissed you. You're my best friend—you're meant to be—" She cut off abruptly, sighing, and then suddenly pushing Harry away and swiftly leaping from the table. She fled the room, leaving Harry standing there, his heart plummeting.
-----
Harry ambled slowly up the grounds toward the castle, weaving through the lively crowd. Congratulations were shouted at him from all sides, but amidst the cheers, he couldn't shake off a profound sense of disappointment. Determined to give (Y/n) some space, he resolved to wait until she was ready to discuss the tumultuous events in the changing room, eager to share the revelations he had long denied. As he entered the Gryffindor celebration party in full swing, Harry scanned the room, unable to spot Hermione and (Y/n).
Renewed cheers and clapping erupted as he made his entrance, engulfing him in a throng of people extending congratulations. Dodging the Creevey brothers, who sought a detailed match analysis, and a group of girls who surrounded him, laughing at his least amusing comments and batting their eyelashes, Harry struggled to locate Ron.
Finally breaking free from Romilda Vane, who dropped heavy hints about attending Slughorn's Christmas party with him, Harry made his way towards the drinks table. In the process, he collided with Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff perched on her shoulder and Crookshanks trailing hopefully at her heels.
"Looking for Ron?" she asked, smirking. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite."
Harry followed her nod towards a corner where Ron was entwined with Lavender Brown, their closeness obscuring the distinction between their hands.
"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" Ginny commented dispassionately. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow. Though I think he's not the only one who needs to refine his technique." She pointed at the lower part of her lower lip, adding, "there's still some evidence that my older sister left." Harry blushed, quickly addressing the spot Ginny indicated and removing possible lipstick. Ginny snorted. "Anyway, good game, Harry." She patted him on the arm and walked off to help herself to more Butterbeer, with Crookshanks trailing behind, fixated on Arnold.
Harry turned away from Ron, who showed no sign of emerging anytime soon, just in time to witness the portrait hole closing. A sinking feeling gripped him as he thought he caught a glimpse of a cascade of bushy brown hair disappearing from view.
Swiftly, he moved forward, deftly sidestepping Romilda Vane, and pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady. The corridor beyond appeared deserted.
"Hermione?"
He located her in the first unlocked classroom he attempted. Seated on the teacher's desk, she was alone, surrounded by a small ring of twittering yellow birds, conjured seemingly out of thin air. Harry couldn't help but admire her spellwork at such a moment.
"Oh, hello, Harry," she greeted in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing. What did you do to your hair? It's messier than usual."
"Yeah ... they're – er – really good," mumbled Harry, attempting to tame his unruly hair and suppress the memories that threatened to resurface from just moments ago. He was uncertain about what to say to Hermione. As he pondered whether there was any chance she hadn't noticed Ron or if she left the room due to the party's rowdiness, Hermione's unnaturally high-pitched voice broke the silence, "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."
"Er ... does he?" replied Harry, feigning ignorance.
"Don't pretend you didn't see him," Hermione retorted. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was –"
The door burst open behind them, and to Harry's horror, Ron entered, laughing and pulling Lavender along by the hand.
"Oh," Ron said, abruptly halting at the sight of Harry and Hermione.
"Oops!" giggled Lavender, retreating from the room. The door swung shut behind her.
A dreadful, swelling silence enveloped the room. Hermione stared at Ron, who avoided her gaze but spoke with a peculiar mix of bravado and awkwardness, "Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to!"
Hermione gracefully slid off the desk, the small flock of golden birds continuing to twitter in circles around her head, creating the illusion of a peculiar, feathery model of the solar system.
"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she murmured quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone." With deliberate slowness and poise, Hermione moved towards the door.
Harry, battling the guilt that gnawed at him after his recent encounter with Sabrina, stole a glance at Ron, who appeared relieved that the situation hadn't escalated further.
"Oppugno!" echoed a sudden shriek from the doorway.
Harry spun around to witness Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression unhinged. The little flock of birds transformed into a hail of fat golden bullets, hurtling towards Ron. He yelped, shielding his face with his hands, but the birds attacked relentlessly, pecking and clawing at every exposed inch of flesh.
"Gerremoffme!" Ron shouted, but with a final, vindictive glare, Hermione wrenched open the door and vanished through it. Harry thought he caught a sob before the door slammed shut.