"But now there's no way to hide, since you pushed my love aside. I'm outta my head hopelessly devoted to you. Hopelessly devoted to you" - Hopelessly Devoted to You, Grease
Exhausted by delighted with our night's work, Harry and I tell Ron and Hermione everything that has happened during next morning's Charms Lesson (having first cast the Muffliato spell upon those nearest to us). They're both satisfyingly impressed by the way we wheedled the memory out of Slughorn and positively awed when we tell them about Voldemort's Horcruxes and Dumbledore's promise take Harry and I along should he find another one.
"Wow," says Ron once we're finally finished; Ron is waving his wand very vaguely in the direction of the ceiling without paying the slightest bit of attention to what he is doing. "Wow. You're actually going to go with Dumbledore...and try and destroy...wow."
"Ron, you're making it snow," says Hermione patiently, grabbing his wrist and redirecting his wand away from the ceiling from which, sure enough, large white flakes have started to fall. Lavender, I notice, glares at Hermione from a neighbouring table through very red eyes, and Hermione immediately lets go of Ron's arm.
"Oh yeah," Ron says, looking down at his shoulders in vague surprise. "Sorry...looks like we've all got horrible dandruff now..."
He brushes some of the fake snow off of Hermione's shoulder. Lavender now bursts into tears. Ron looks immensely guilty and turns his back on her.
"We split up," he tells Harry and I out of the corner of his mouth. "Last night. When she saw me coming out of the dormitory with Hermione. Obviously, she couldn't see you two, so she thought it had just been the two of us."
"Ah," says Harry. "Well -- you don't mind it's over, do you?"
"No," Ron admits. "It was pretty bad while she was yelling, but at least I didn't have to finish it." He casts me a sheepish look. "It made me feel kind of sorry for Malfoy, all the yelling."
"Coward," says Hermione, though she looks amused. "Well, it's been a bad few days for romance all round. Ginny and Dean split up too."
I can see in Harry's eyes that is perhaps the best news he's received all year, but he tries to keep his face as immobile and his voice as indifferent as he can, and asks nonchalantly. "How come?"
"Oh, something really silly...She said he was always trying to help her through the portrait hole like she couldn't climb in herself...but they've been rocky for ages."
I glance over my shoulder at Dean, and he certainly looks unhappy.
"Of course, this puts you in a bit of a dilemma, doesn't it?" says Hermione.
"What d'you mean?" Harry says quickly.
"The Quidditch team," says Hermione. "If Ginny and Dean aren't speaking..."
"Oh -- oh yeah," says Harry, colour rushing to his cheeks.
I quickly jump to his rescue. "It's like the opposite of what Mrs Weasley described at the beginning of the year. Remember what she said about everyone getting married because of uncertainty? Except everyone is just breaking up instead."
Ron scoffs. "Are you saying that you and Malfoy were gonna elope?"
I know that he means the best, but his words strike me in the heart. I try my hardest to hide the sadness, but my face must betray me, for Ron's face breaks into a frown.
"Sorry, Hayles," Ron says hurriedly. "I won't joke about it, I know you're still upset."
I shrug, but I appreciate the sentiment nevertheless. "Thanks, Ron."
"It was weird," he continues hesitantly. "How quickly it happened. To be honest, I always thought he'd break your heart, not the other way around."
"Yes, well, he hates me now," I say. "You should have heard him the other day, it's like the past three years never happened."
"What did you expect, it is Malfoy, after all."
"I'm not used to being on the receiving end of it." But this does not explain my feelings in their entirety. "That's not all. No, you don't know him like I do - like I did. I'm worried about him. Something's going on - maybe Harry's right."
They don't have the opportunity to react to my sudden change of heart, but their faces are aghast.
"Flitwick," says Ron in a warning tone. The tiny little Charms master is bobbing his way towards us, and Hermione and I are the only ones who have managed to turn vinegar into wine; our glasses are full of deep crimson liquid, whereas the contents of Harry and Ron's are still murky brown.
"Now, now, boys," Flitwick squeaks reproachfully. "A little less talk, a little more action...Let me see you try..."
Together they raise their wands, concentrating with all their might, and point at their flasks. Harry's vinegar turns to ice; Ron's flask explodes.
"Yes...for homework," says Flitwick, reemerging from under the table and pulling shards out of the top of his hat, "practise."
We have one of our rare joint free periods after Charms and walk back to the common room together. Ron seems to be positively lighthearted about the end of his relationship with Lavender, and Hermione seems cheery too, though when asked what she is grinning about she simply says, "It's a nice day." Neither of them seems to notice the battles raging my me and Harry's heads. I can tell he's stressing about Ginny, whereas I can't stop thinking about Malfoy.
What if he's a Death Eater?
I've seen he doesn't have the Dark Mark.
Doesn't mean he's not working for Voldemort.
If he's working for Voldemort, he's been forced. I should help him -
He'll coerce you to the Dark Side
No, he won't.
Remember the dream, Haylee!
I barely notice that we're climbing through the portrait hole into the sunny common room, and only vaguely register the small group of seventh years clustered together, until Hermione cries, "Katie! You're back! Are you okay?"
I stare: It is indeed Katie Bell, looking completely health and surrounded by her jubilant friends. I run and hug her; Katie returning symbolises some sort of normality in my life, but also further complicates the situation with Malfoy. If he's really what Harry says he is, then he poisoned Katie.
"I'm really well!" she says happily, hugging me tightly. "They let me out of St. Mungo's on Monday, I had a couple of days at home with Mum and Dad and then come back here this morning. Leanne was just telling me about McClaggen and the last match, Harry and Haylee..."
"Yeah," says Harry, "well, not you're back and Ron's fit, we'll have a decent chance of thrashing Ravenclaw, which means we could still be in the running for the Cup. Listen, Katie..."
I know Harry wants to put the question to her at once, and it appears to be enough to drive even Ginny from his brain. However, I'm not so lucky; he thinks Malfoy did it, of course. He drops his voice as Katie's friends start gathering up their things: apparently they're late for Transfiguration.
"...that necklace...can you remember who gave it to you?"
"No," Katie says, shaking her head ruefully. "Everyone's been asking me, but I haven't got a clue. The last thing I remember was walking into the ladies' in the Three Broomsticks."
"You definitely went into the bathroom, then?" I ask.
"Well, I know I pushed open the door," she says, "so I suppose whoever Imperiused me was standing just behind it. After that, my memory's a blank until about two weeks ago in St. Mungos. Listen, I'd better go, I wouldn't put it past McGonagall to give me lines even if it is my first day back..."
She snatches up her bag and books and hurries after her friends, leaving us to sit down at a window table and ponder what we've just been told.
"So it must have been a girl or women who gave Katie the necklace," says Hermione, "to be in the ladies' bathroom."
"Or someone who looked like a girl or women," says Harry. "Don't forget, there was a cauldron full of Polyjuice Potion at Hogwarts. We know some of got stolen..."
In my mind's eye, I see a parade of Crabbes and Goyles prance past, all transformed into girls.
"I think we should take another swig of Felix, Haylee," says Harry, "and you can come and have a go at the Room of Requirement with me."
"That would be a waste of potion," I say flatly.
"But you said yourself that you believe me!" He says, outraged.
"Yes, but luck can only get us so far," I say reasonably. "Slughorn was different, we always had the ability to persuade him, we just needed a bit of luck. But that won't be enough to get us into the Room. You can't waste the rest of the potion. There are plenty of things I think we'll need it more for..."
"Couldn't we make some more?" Ron asks, ignoring my words. "It'd be great to have a stock of it...Have a look in the book..."
Harry pulls out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of his bag and looks up Felix Felicis.
"Blimey, it's complicated," he says. "And it takes six months...You've got to let it stew..."
"Typical," Ron says.
The only person who is not particularly pleased to see Katie back at school is Dean Thomas because he is no longer required to fill her place as Chaser. He takes the blow stoically enough when Harry tells him, merely grunting and shrugging, but I can tell that Dean and Seamus will go on to mutter mutinously behind his back.
The following fortnight hold some of the best Quidditch practises in a long time. We're all so pleased to be rid of McLaggen, and so glad to have Katie back at last that we're flying extremely well.
Ginny does not seem at all upset about the breakup with Dean; on the contrary, she is the life and soul of the team. Her imitations of Ron anxiously bobbing up and down in front of the goal posts as the Quaffle speeds past him, or Harry bellowing orders at McClaggen before being knocked out cold keeps us all highly amused. Harry, I'd wager, is glad to have an innocent reason to look at Ginny; though he receives several more Bludger injuries during practice for not keeping his eyes on the Snitch.
But I can do very little to help Harry due to my own battle; is Malfoy a Death Eater? He avoids me like the plague now, and class is the only time that I see more than just a flash of him in the corridor, making it impossible for me to investigate. His hatred for me now rivals his hatred for Harry; I only wish I could have one more conversation with me to make sure he's okay, to let him know that I can help him. But the odds of that conversation is next to zero. The urge to take some of Harry's Felix Felicis is becoming stronger, but I can't encourage him, knowing he has all the wrong intentions. And I can't let my feelings betray me; I know breaking up with him was for the best, so matter how much it kills me. Nevertheless, we both keep an eye on the Marauder's Map, which shows that he is still spending plenty of time within the room.
But for the time being, my interest must go towards the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game, which will decide the Championship; which can go either way. If we beat Ravenclaw by a margin of three hundred points (a tall order, but Ginny, Katie, and I have never flown better) then we'll win the Championship. If we win by less than three hundred points, we'll come second to Ravenclaw; if we lost by a hundred points we'll be third behind Hufflepuff, and if we lose by more than a hundred, we'll place dead last.
The run-up to this crucial match has all the usual features; unpleasant chants about individual platers being rehearsed loudly as they pass; with team members either swaggering around enjoying the attention or else dashing into bathrooms between classes to throw up.
A few days before the match against Ravenclaw, Harry and I find ourselves walking down to dinner alone from the common room, Ron having rushed off into a nearby bathroom to throw up yet again, and Hermione having dashed off to see Professor Vector about a mistake she thought she might have made in her last Arithmancy essay. Out of habit, Harry leads us along his usual detour along the seventh-floor corridor; walking down here again breaks my heart, as I remember all the memories we made.
You are the most important person in my life...and I can suddenly see his eyes, smell his cologne...
Harry notices this shift in attitude and gives a sigh. "You haven't really spoken about it since it happened, you know."
"What? Did you expect me to be a blubbering mess for weeks on end?"
"Well, yeah," he says sheepishly.
I shove his shoulder, scowling. "I hate you."
He laughs, but I can tell his words have merit. "I didn't mean it like that! It's just, you were really upset afterwards, and I know how much you love him, even though you try to act like you don't anymore."
"Well, he's made it clear he hates me, that's the worst part, I think," I say thoughtfully. "And when I look at him it feels like someone's stabbed me in the heart and twisted the dagger. It's funny: everything with his father, and his family, and Voldemort, I never actually considered the possibility it would break us up. But I cant afford to break down over it: I can cry, and complain, and miss him, but you need me at my best. I can't let you down."
"You can fall apart a little, I won't mind," he says, rubbing my back. "I just hate to see your heart break. Now, is it insensitive to ask you to help me find him on the map?"
"Just a little." I laugh, which seems to satisfy him. "But I can let it slide." In any case, I can't resist looking over his shoulder at the Map.
For a moment I can't find Malfoy anywhere, and I assume he must be inside the Room of Requirement again, but then I see Malfoy's tiny, labelled dot standing in a boys' bathroom on the floor below, accompanied, not by Crabbe, Goyle, or Zabini, but by Moaning Myrtle.
We only stop staring at this unlikely coupling when Harry walks right into a suit of armour. The loud crash and the sound of my laughter brings him out of his reverie; hurrying from the scene lest Filch turns up, we dash down the marble staircase and along the passageway below. Outside the bathroom, Harry presses his ear the door for a few moments, shushing me when I try to interrupt.
"Shh! I can't hear anything!" he hisses, he makes to open the door. "Come on..."
I grab his wrist and try to pull him away. "What are you doing? I'm not going in there, it's the boy's bathroom!"
"So?" He gives me a look. "Don't you want to know what's going on? How he knew about the dream? This is your chance!"
"He's still my ex-boyfriend," I say pointedly. "I can't see him, no...no, not after our last conversation, it will kill me...You go, I'll keep watch. But promise me that you won't do anything stupid; I'll storm in there and drag you out by the ear if I anything funny. Okay?"
He nods quickly, and then very quietly pushes the door open, and I catch a fleeting glimpse of Draco standing with his back to the door before it swings closed once more. I suddenly understand the sickness felt by my teammates, as the seconds Harry spends in that bathroom begins to feel like hours. And only one thought seems to run through my mind; what if I just sent Harry alone up against a Death Eater? As much as I want to deny it, to see the good in him, Harry's theory has begun to make perfect sense in my mind. Maybe Sirius was right all this time. Lying to me about his whereabouts when Katie was poisoned, disappearing during Quidditch games, somehow knowing about my dream...
"No! No! Stop it!" Moaning Myrtle's squeal rings in my ears, and my heart begins to race. "Stop! STOP!" Without a second thought, I burst into the bathroom, my wand drawn and encounter pure chaos.
There's an explosion as I enter the bathroom which makes me stumble, though I keep my wand drawn unwaveringly. "HARRY! WHAT DID I SAY -?!"
"HAYLEE, GET DOWN!"
I leap backwards with a scream, barely avoiding Harry's Leg-Locker Curse which flies past my shoulder, then backfires off the wall behind Draco before smashing the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who screams loudly; water pours everywhere, and Harry slips. I lock eyes with Draco amidst all the chaos, and for half a second the sheer fury in face disappears, and is replaced by the look of love he once used to give me. I think he might back down, and choose to follow the good in him instead of the bad. But only for a second. His face contorts again, and he cries, "Cruci-"
"DRACO, NO!"
"SECTUMSEMPRA!" Harry bellows from the floor, waving his wand wildly.
The next few moments seem to go in slow motion, and for a second I think I might faint. Blood spurts from Draco's face and chest as though he has been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggers backwards and collapses onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand. My scream echoes through the bathroom as I stagger towards him, falling at his side with a sob, his face shining scarlet, his white hands scrabbling at his blood-soaked chest. I've got to stop the bleeding.
"Harry, what have you done?" I cry as Draco begins to shake, lying in a pool of his own blood. "HARRY!"
"No -- I didn't --"
Overhead, Moaning Myrtle lets out a deafening scream: "MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"
"H-Haylee," he splutters, reaching for my hand; and though mine too are shaking beyond comprehension, I grasp his tightly, staining my skin ruby red.
"I'm here, it's gonna be okay," I cry, my eyes blurring with tears so all I can focus on is the blood. In my mind's eye, I see flashes of Taylor in the Department of Mysteries; gasping for air and covered in blood just like Draco, and my sobs redouble, and my chest aches. "Draco, you cant die, you - I - I d-don't know what to do, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry -"
The door bangs open, and I look up, terrified: Snape bursts into the room, looking livid, but I'm never been so happy to see him. Pushing Harry roughly aside, he kneels by Draco's other side, draws his wand, and traces it over the deep wounds Harry's curse had made, muttering an incantation that sounds almost like a song. The flow of blood seems to ease; I wipe the blood from his face with my sleeve and Snape repeats the spell, sparing me an approving nod as Draco grips my hand tighter yet. The wounds seem to be knitting.
Moaning Myrtle is still sobbing and wailing overhead. Tears are still streaming uncontrollably down my cheeks, and I'm barely aware that I too am soaked in blood and water. When Snape has performed his countercurse for the third time, he half-lifts Draco into a standing position, though he still refuses to let go of my hand.
"You need the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of scaring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that...Come..."
"Haylee?" he says weakly, and he gives my hand a weak squeeze.
Snape spares me another look, the usual disdain he reserves for Harry and me nowhere to be seen. "Miss Potter will stay with you."
He supports Draco across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in his usual voice of cold fury. "And you, Potter...You wait here for me."
Harry nods at me, telling me to go. And so I set off to the Hospital Wing with Snape and Draco, shaking head to toe, covered in my ex-boyfriend's blood and still gripping his hand as if for dear life. And Snape asks me what happened; not necessarily being nice to me, but nevertheless unusually calm for him to be speaking to me.
"They were fighting," I choke, struggling to find the words. "I don't know what spell he used, I'd never heard it before. Sectum - Sectum..."
"I know it," Snape says darkly. "Mr Malfoy is lucky to be alive."
Ten minutes later, Draco is lying, asleep, in a hospital wing, and Snape has returned to the bathroom, likely to punish Harry. Still wet and covered in blood, I sit by his bed in silence once Madam Pomfrey has finished attending to him, not even entirely sure why I'm still here but nevertheless in a state of shock. He had reached for me in a moment of vulnerability, but I know things will go back to our new normal when he wakes. But this has only reaffirmed what I already know to be true; the world will never be wide enough for both Harry and Draco.
"Haylee."
The voice makes me jump, and I turn to see Tessa Jensen looking down at me. It's been so long since I've seen her that it's like seeing a ghost, and the translucent look to her skin and bags under her eyes don't help. And much like Draco, there's a certain sadness in her eyes that even makeup cannot hide.
"Tessa," I say quietly, my voice still quivering. "It's good to see you."
She flashes a smile. "Under poor circumstances, however. Snape told me that your brother cursed him." She surveys Draco's sleeping figure with somewhat emotionless eyes. "I suppose we always knew their rivalry would end with blood.
"Did we?"
She takes a seat beside me, and her very nature seems foreign to me. She was once one of my closest friends. She was a girl who fooled me into meeting Draco at Madam Puddifoot's, who saw me through a year of Divination with jokes and anecdotes; but I can see that she's gone.
"Well, ancient grudges, you know," she says quietly, and I notice that her fingernails are bitten down to the nub. She seems to notice my staring and skillfully clasps her hands in her lap. "I was sorry to hear about you two, by the way."
"Me too." I sigh, casting another look at Draco, watching his chest rising and falling. In my mind, I see flashes of blood and water. "I'm glad you and Riley sorted everything out, gives me some hope."
She hesitates, and opens her mouth, though no words come out. "I would have done anything to keep Riley in my life," she finally says, refusing to meet my eye. "I once thought that you and Draco would have done the same thing." She's silent for a few moments and then gives a dry laugh. "Sorry, I'm a seer, remember? I can't help but feel like a failure when my visions don't come true."
"You foresaw Draco and I staying together?" I ask, confused. "But doesn't that mean - ?"
"It's not what you think," she says quickly. "My visions are always subject to change. I just...didn't see it coming. Neither did he," she adds, casting a look at Draco. "You broke his heart, you know."
I watch him for a few seconds more. "He gave me no choice. I love him, but he was going to be the death of me. I shouldn't be here," I say quietly. "I don't know why I came." I stand up, going against every instinct in my body, and turn my back on him. "Don't tell him I was here. He told me to leave him alone, I think that would do us both some good. It was good seeing you again - um, I miss you and Riley."
"We miss you too, Hayles."
"I suppose I'll see you around."
And as I walk away I try my hardest to forget about him; forget about the way he reached me, what Tessa said about her vision. Though I feel sicker than I've ever felt in my life.
"I won't say 'I told you so,'" Hermione says, an hour later in the common room.
"Leave it, Hermione," says Ron angrily.
Harry and I never made it to dinner; neither of us has any appetite at all. He's was midway through telling Ron, Hermione, and Ginny about what had happened, nor that there is much need. The news has travelled extremely fast; Moaning Myrtle has taken it upon herself to pop up in every bathroom in the castle to tell the story; Draco has already been visited in the hospital wing by Pansy Parkinson, who has lost no time in vilifying Harry far and wide, and Snape has told the staff precisely what happened. Harry was called out of the common room earlier to endure what he describes as a highly unpleasant fifteen minutes with McGonagall, who told him he was lucky not to have been expelled, and that she supports Snape's punishment wholeheartedly; detention every Saturday until the end of term, which means he's missing the Quidditch final. I can't help but feel that he deserves it, yet I'm conflicted.
"I told you there was something wrong with that Prince person," Hermione says, evidently unable to stop herself. "And I was right, wasn't I?"
"No, I don't think you were," says Harry stubbornly.
I know he's having a bad time; the looks on our team's faces when he told us he couldn't play Saturday, I believe, was the worst punishment of all. I can tell he's worried about what Ginny thinks, too; she'll be playing Seeker, and Dean will rejoining us to play Chaser in her place. Perhaps, if we win, Ginny and Dean will make up in the post-match euphoria.
"Harry," says Hermione, "how can you still stick up for that book when that spell --"
"Will you stop harping on about the book!" Harry snaps. "The Prince only copied it out! It's not like he was advising anyone to use it! For all we know, he was making a note of something that had been used against him!"
"I don't believe this," says Hermione. "You're actually defending --"
"I'm not defending what I did!" Harry says quickly. "I wish I hadn't done it, and not just because I've got about a dozen detentions. You know I wouldn't've used a spell like that, not even on Malfoy, but you can't blame the Prince, he hadn't written 'try this out, it's really good' -- he was just making notes for himself, wasn't he, not for anyone else..."
"Are you telling me," says Hermione, "that you're going to go back --?"
"And get the book? Yeah, I am," says Harry forcefully. "Listen, without the Prince I'd never won the Felix Felicis. I'd never have known how to save Ron from poisoning, I'd never have --"
"-- got a reputation for Potions brilliance you don't deserve," says Hermione nastily.
"Give it a rest, Hermione!" says Ginny, and I'm so shocked that I look up. "By the sound of it, Malfoy was trying to Use an Unforgivable Curse, you should be glad Harry had something good up his sleeve!"
"Well, of course, I'm glad Harry wasn't cursed!" says Hermione, clearly strung. "But you can't call that Sectumsempra spell good, Ginny, look where it's landed him! And I'd have thought, seeing what this has done to your chances in the match --"
"Oh, don't start acting as though you understand Quidditch," snaps Ginny, "you'll only embarrass yourself."
Harry, Ron, and I stare: Hermione and Ginny have always gotten on, and are now sitting with their arms folded, staring in opposite directions. I can tell by the look on Harry's face that Ginny defending him brings him great joy, and I can't stop myself from interjecting.
"This isn't about Quidditch," I say, sounding tired and exasperated. "Or detention, for that matter. Harry, you know I'm always on your side, no matter what. But the rest of you weren't there. You didn't see how terrified Harry was; the look on his face said it all, he didn't mean to do it. But you also didn't see what the spell did to Drac -Malfoy. If Snape hadn't have come he would have died."
"Of course you'd take Malfoy's side," Ginny says coldly.
"I'm on Harry's side," I snap, glaring at her. "But that doesn't mean I can't acknowledge that using that spell is the stupidest thing you've ever done. Malfoy tried to curse you, but he's always been that person. But Harry, using a spell you read in some random textbook, with no idea what it would to: I thought you were smarter than that. You almost killed him, all because of some unknown 'Prince' who thinks he knows better than everyone else. Didn't you learn anything from Tom Riddle's diary?"
I see that Ginny is particularly struck by this. "She's got a point."
"I know you like I know my own mind," I continue, reaching across and grabbing his hand, "and I know that you didn't mean to. Of course you didn't mean to. But the Prince had bad intentions, you saw what that spell did. What if Malfoy used it on me, or anyone else here? Would the Prince still be blameless?"
This seems to strike Harry. "I'm sorry. I never should have taken you there, that must have been hard for you."
"It was," I say matter of factly. He looks solemn for a moment, and suddenly I feel guilty for lecturing him. Of course he didn't mean to hurt Draco; this is Harry, after all. "Hey," I speak again, squeezing his hand and smiling, "you always did say you'd jinx him if we broke up."
He laughs, and shakes his head slightly. I've always put Harry and family above everything else, but this is a new feeling, forsaking Draco - the boy who had reached for me in his weakest moment and refused to let me go - feels different. Suddenly the war seems more real.
*~*
As expected, there are Slytherin taunts to be endured the next time, not to mention the anger from fellow Gryffindors, who are most unhappy that our captain has got himself banned from the final match of the season. However, what really seems to be upsetting Harry is the words of disappointment expressed by Dad. It's the first time we've ever received individual letters from him; to me, he sent kind words about my break-up, about how proud he was, and of how he knew I was strong enough to get through it. Whatever he sent to Harry must not have been pretty, judging from his reaction when he read it over breakfast. I can't imagine what it would be like for Dad to be disappointed in me, and I can tell it's hitting Harry hard. In ay case, I try my hardest to forget about the incident in the bathroom, but that proves harder than expected. By Saturday morning, I can tell that he'd gladly trade anything to be walking down to the Quidditch pitch with myself and the rest of the team. Down in the dungeons, he won't even be able to hear the commentary.
"Good luck, Hayles," he says before we part ways. "Fly straight, all right? And tell the rest of the team good luck, too."
"Will do," I say, feeling as if I'm playing dress up, pretending to be captain. "And hey, I'm sorry if I made you feel bad last night. It wasn't my intention."
He gives me a look and raises his eyebrows. "You're my little sister, you never have to apologise. Especially when you're right. No hard feelings, we can talk about it later. Now, go! I love you, do me proud!"
I can't help but feel when I look around the changing rooms. Ginny, a fantastic Chaser, tried and true, forced to play Seeker; Dean, decent enough, but hardly the player we need for the final; Katie, absolutely brilliant, but still recovering; Ron, again, brilliant, but often hit or miss; Kirke, a good Beater, but his partner is hardly in the game; and finally, Riley, distant and disconnected, who's more likely to more harm than good in his current state.
"Hey, listen up everyone," I say, trying to shake off the negativity. "I know we all wish that Harry was here, but you'll have to put up with me for the time being. With the exception of Katie, I know none of you was on Wood's team, but he was notorious for his pre-game pep talks; I'm gonna embody him for a second. You know what you've got to do," I say, picking up my Firebolt. "Fly as you have been in practise, and we'll be okay. Let's do it."
We walk out onto the pitch to tumultuous applause. The Ravenclaw team, dressed in blue, are already standing in the middle of the pitch. I shake hands with Cho Chang; Ginny's beaten her before, she can do it again.
"Mount your brooms...on my whistle...three - two - one..."
And for the first time, I'm not concerned with Zacharia Smith's commentary, and as I take possession of the Quaffle amidst a sea of blue and red players, any negativity I felt in the changing rooms disappears. While Riley is playing as poorly as I expected, everybody else is on their A-game. Katie, Dean, and I are near unstoppable, and Ron is playing as if he's drunk Felix Felicis.
And then, at three hundred to one hundred and forty, the crowd gives an all too familiar surge of screaming which I know can only mean one thing; and sure enough, when I turn, Ginny has the Snitch clasped firmly in her gloved hand. Screaming triumphantly, I fall to the ground in a many-armed hug; an irreplaceable feeling of which I'll grow tired. Once again, against all the odds, we are victorious.
*~*
As always, the celebration in the common room is lively, and we all wait eagerly for Harry to return to tell him the news. Hermione and are seated by the fireplace in a giggly conversation, which includes her trying to stop me from drinking the Firewhiskey a few of the boys stole from the kitchens. But when the portrait hole finally swings open, we all scramble for the door with a roar or euphoria. Harry gasps as people begin to scream at him, and several hands pull him into the room.
"We won!" Ron yells as we bound towards him, brandishing the silver Cup. "We won!"
"Four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty!" I add excitedly. "We actually won!"
Harry looks around, amazed; and in my peripheral vision, I see Ginny running towards him, a blazing look on her face, and she throws her arms around him. And suddenly, evidently without thinking, without planning it, without worrying that an odd fifty people are watching, Harry kisses her.
The room goes deathly silent, and my jaw drops. Several people wolf-whistle and there is an outbreak of nervous giggling. They break apart, and seeing the look on Harry's face makes only makes my smile wider. But his eyes, naturally, seek Ron; who is still clutching the other side of the cup, wearing an expression appropriate to having been clubbed over the head. Still beaming, I nudge his ribs as he makes eye contact with Harry; and he gives the smallest jerk of his head, which I understand to mean, Well -- if you must.
And so, grinning down at her, Hary leads Ginny out of the portrait hole, leaving the common room a myriad of wolf whistles, giggles, and overall, confusion. My euphoria for Harry is enough to rival my excitement at winning the match, but when I return to my dormitory an hour later, tipsy and the effects of the match wearing off, all I can think about is Draco in the hospital wing and the lacerations on his chest. I can't help but pull out the Muggle photograph of us deep from within the depths of my trunk, which had once held a place on honour on my bedside table.
I think about how much easier it would be if I fell for anyone else but him; George, Seamus, Neville. But I know that regardless of how I feel, I can't let it get in the way of what Harry and I have to do. However devoted I am to him deep down, it doesn't change anything. This photo will forever symbolise what could never be, what we'll probably never get back. I suppose if I live through this war, my kids will find it one day and ask about the handsome young boy in the photo; and this thought hurts me more than anything Draco could ever say or do, for I had once so foolishly believed that we would go the distance. Oh, how wrong I was.
*~*
Draco's point of view.
"Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup," Tessa says absent-mindedly, as she and Riley sit beside my bed; the hospital wing empty save for us. My chest aches with every breath I take, though Snape and Madam Pomfrey say that that will subside soon. "They played well." She rubs Riley's knee, but he barely bats an eye as he wordlessly takes her hand in his.
"I don't care," I say scathingly. "I just want to get out of here, we're so close, I can't have it be for nothing."
"I've told you a million times to stop worrying," she says coolly. "Riley and I have it under control."
I glare at her. "Yes, I'm sure you and Riley have everything figured out. The two of you hid away while I did all the dirty work."
"Lower your voice!" she hisses furiously.
"Tell me again," I whisper furiously, "why do I have to be the one to do it? I've done everything, I've sacrificed everything that mattered to me; Haylee, Quidditch -- "
"Because my father wasn't the one who fucked up at the Ministry!" I've never seen such fury in her eyes, and it's enough to silence me. "I've made sacrifices too, I've done things you were too much of a coward to do." She spares a fleeting glance at Riley, a deep sadness in her eyes. "Don't you dare tell me I haven't..."
"I really tried, you know," I say quietly, refusing to meet their eyes. "But I couldn't do it. I don't think it ever would have worked on her."
"Probably not," she says sadly. "She was here for a while the other day, while you were still asleep. She asked me not to tell you, but she was really worried." She hesitates for a few moments, seeming to be wary of how I'll react. "Is it true you told her to leave you alone?"
I feel sad just thinking about our argument in the dungeons. "It's safer to hate her."
"Then love her and lose her?"
I nod, and close my eyes, and I see her, her raven black hair, her eyes twinkling when she laughs; a sound like music to my ears. I try to imagine her face when she discovers the truth, and the thought is enough to make my heart begin to race dangerously.
Beside me Tessa gives a humourless laugh, drawing me back into reality. I could swear it sounds as if she's fighting back tears. "We've really fucked up, haven't we?"
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Hey guys! just some quick clarification; I'd imagine that in this chapter this is the first time Snape's really seen Lily in Haylee, whereas he typically focus on everything about her which is like James; just explaining his weird shift towards her :)
hope you enjoy :))