Admitting Defeat
"Harry!" Ron woke him with a start, smacking Harry hard in the face with an open palm. "Wake up! You're going to be late."
Harry struggled to open his eyes, wincing as pain split his temples as the sunlight through the flat windows pierces his vision. He covered his eyes and searched for his glasses which had fallen onto his chest where he had passed out on the sofa. Putting them on he was greeted by the scowling face of Hermione who sat perched, arms crossed, on the arm of the recliner. She opened her mouth to say something but Ron cut her off.
"Leave it alone, Hermione, he's got enough to worry about with the match going on in like…twenty minutes."
Match? Harry tried to focus. What match?
"Gryffindor and Ravenclaw," Ron caught Harry's expression of confusion, looking exasperated himself. "You do remember that you referee don't you?"
Harry had completely forgotten that he was expected at Hogwarts that day. Damn it, he glanced at the clock, feeling nauseous and wishing he was still asleep.
"Get in the shower. You've don't have much time," Ron urged him into a standing position, "but you need it."
Harry stumbled to the bathroom, ignoring the hissing undertones of disapproval from Hermione and Ron's argumentative replies. Standing under the hot water, he regretted everything about the night before and wished he could do it over. Pushing the blurry image of kissing Diana from his mind he thought about the ring stuffed into Ginny's last letter and wished he could disapparate far away from everything. He was in no mood to deal with a bunch of little kids on brooms right then.
Ron pounded on the door and yelled at him to hurry up. Sighing and holding back a retort, Harry dried off and brushed his teeth, fighting back the desire to vomit. He dressed quickly and, as Ron hurried him out the door, he grabbed the letter and stuffed it in his pocket. Hermione watched him carefully with a frown.
"Maybe you should eat something—"
"No," Harry snapped, pushing his way out the door and down the stairs wishing for once that they weren't coming with him. Just outside they checked the street for pedestrians and dissapparated, appearing outside the front gates of Hogwarts, the sun high and warm though the air was cool and frosty. The uncomfortable feeling of apparating caused Harry to reel slightly and walking off into the trees he left the other two to wait while he quickly emptied his stomach on a cluster of ferns.
Feeling slightly better, he returned and ignored both their looks and simply headed through the front gates towards the school. The Quidditch pitch stands were crowded with spectators and Ron and Hermione left him to find seats. Harry hurried to the locker rooms to retrieve the balls from the Referee's office. Passing through the Gryffindor changing rooms he stopped short at the sight of the team getting ready to play. They were laughing and joking around, blowing off steam before the game. The floor was littered with clothes and broom kits; someone had left a shower running in the other room.
They stopped at the sight of the look on Harry's face, shutting up and standing motionless. "Pick up this mess," he snapped irritably, crossing the room and throwing open the office door. "Get it clean before the match or forfeit." He slammed the door behind him, knowing he was being unreasonable, but not caring.
Harry took the ball case out to the field, passing through the Ravenclaw changing rooms on his way. He was prepared to take out his temper on them as well, but found their team changed and ready to play, the floor picked up and everything in relative order. "Let's go!" he ordered them instead and disregarded their looks of surprise.
The game, in Harry's opinion, was a disaster. Apparently someone had neglected to teach the Ravenclaw beaters the rules of the game, and he had to call several unnecessary fouls in favor of Gryffindor. There were plenty of jeers from the crowd for this, calling favoritism for Harry's old house. He scowled and ignored them, blowing his whistle as a Gryffindor chaser nearly got knocked off her broom with a heavy beater's bat. Yelling at the kid to watch himself or get kicked off the field, Harry awarded the Gryffindor's another chance at the goals amid cheers and boos from all across the stadium.
Wishing the game would just end, Harry watched the two seekers look around for the Snitch, annoyed that they hadn't spotted it. He himself had seen it pass by both of them several times and if they had been paying any attention they would have been done and back to their dormitories by then. Ravenclaw scored without any more interruptions from their beaters and the score was brought up to eighty to thirty, Gryffindor in the lead. Finally, after what felt like hours, the Gryffindors nabbed the snitch near the middle goal ring on the Ravenclaw side and ended it mercifully. Harry blew the whistle among screams and cheers from the crowd.
Ron and Hermione found him after the game, looking apprehensive about his attitude. Ron looked about ready to give him another tongue lashing but refrained from doing so. "Quite the match," was all he said, raising his eyebrows at Hermione. Harry looked away, shoving a bludger back into its case.
"Potter," Professor McGonagall charged up, looking stern and put out. Harry stood and waited for what was coming. "Join me for a walk will you." It wasn't a question, but a command. Harry shared a look with the other two who nodded.
"We'll wait for you in Hogsmeade," Ron told him.
"No," Harry shook his head, "go ahead, I'll see you at home." They left and Harry slammed the top of the ball case down, locking it and picking it up to carry it back to the office. McGonagall walked alongside him, speaking curtly.
"I welcome your willingness to help with Quidditch this year, Potter," she began. "But I do not appreciate you yelling at my students in such a fashion. They are merely children; surely you can recall what that was like?"
"You mean when you used to yell at us, Professor?"
She stiffened, raising to her true height and looking down through her spectacles at him. "Indeed," she eyed him with a look Harry knew all too well. "I may not be able to punish you as a student, Mr. Potter," she retorted. "But I will readily be able to find your replacement."
Harry looked away, jaw clenched.
McGonagall visibly softened, watching him carefully. "But I would hate to have to do so. We'll see you at the next match." She walked away towards the castle, following the departing crowd now at the front doors to the main hall. Harry watched her go feeling miserable. He was well on his way to ruining every relationship that held any value to him.
"Brilliant," he muttered, returning to put away the ball case. The office was quiet, the teams having changed and left as quickly as possible to avoid him. Harry disregarded the mess that both had left, closing the door behind him and setting the case by the wall beside the desk. Light filtered in through the single window, a cool purple hue as the sun began to set over the lake. Harry sat in the swivel chair before the desk and leaned his head back, his head pounding and his stomach pained more with shame than being hung-over. He'd messed up and he didn't know how to fix it. He wanted to run, but didn't know where to go.
His gaze traveled to a door to his right, the storage closet. Getting up, he opened it, taking out the Snitch they had used for the game which had been in his pocket. He walked to a row of boxes on shelves lining the wall. Pulling out the nearest one, he opened it to reveal several smaller boxes, each holding its own separate Snitch. Finding the empty box in which to house the one he held, Harry took it back out to the other room to label it, putting the day's date of the match and the name of the seeker who caught it on the top. Closing the Snitch inside, he sealed it with his wand and returned it to the storage room, pushing the box back on the shelf once it was inside. Looking down the row of shelves, Harry stepped to another box and pulled it free, reading the labels on the tops of the little compartments inside.
They were all there, all the years he'd played seeker, every one of the Snitches he had caught; all but one. That one was still in his possession, back in his trunk at the flat, empty of what it had contained the last time he'd made use of it. Harry's stomach lurched as he caught sight of Ginny's name scrawled on one of the little boxes. One of her Snitches, she had caught it when he couldn't, when he wasn't allowed to play. The same day he had kissed her for the first time. Taking hold of the box, Harry opened it and looked at the golden sheen of the tiny ball. Its wings fluttered for a moment and lay still.
The sun had disappeared by the time Harry locked the office and left the dressing rooms. The castle was lit up with hundreds of tiny lights, the windows of Gryffindor tower ablaze with warmth. They would be celebrating hours into the night over their win. They were favored for the House Cup again, of course.
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets against the chill and walked across the lawn. He passed Hagrid's hut but kept his distance, not wanting Fang to alert him to Harry's presence. He would have to visit soon, but not right then. Outside the gates, listening to them clang and seal behind him, Harry turned and dissapparated.
There were several muggles out on the streets of the village but none of them paid him any mind. Harry crossed to a by-street and kept to the shadows, wishing not to be seen. No one would recognize him, he was sure, but better not take chances. He wanted to be left alone. His first stop was the house. He hadn't seen it since the time him and Hermione had been there but this time he wasn't in any danger and had all the time in the world.
The sign popped up as he approached, looking over the crumbling remains of the house that had once been his home for such a short time. There were new inscriptions on the sign, 'thank yous' and best whishes. Someone had scratched 'Long Live Harry Potter' across the bottom. He should have been appreciative of the sentiment, and truthfully he was, but seeing the messages right then didn't improve his disposition. He would've rather come home and crossed through the threshold into a warm foyer to be greeted by his parents. He would've rather sat down at his mother's kitchen table, handed a warm cup of tea and some much needed advice from his dad on how to get out of the mess he had gotten himself into. Even dead, Voldemort was making things difficult for Harry.
Pulling himself away, he walked the dark streets across the village to the church yard, pushing open the gate and stepping into the cemetery. He didn't have to look this time; he knew right where his parent's graves were. Standing before them, Harry felt cold from both the chill air and the loneliness he felt. They were all gone, anyone he could have asked or talked to that could make him feel better. Dumbledore, Sirius, Lupin…all of those he felt like he could go to like a father figure.
Harry looked up at the sound of a group of muggles stepping out of a pub, laughing and talking loudly. Glancing back to the grave stone before him, Harry realized something. No, not all of them. There was one left.
The kitchen window of the Burrow was lit with a welcoming glow. They were still awake, Harry was hopeful. Stepping up to the door he resisted the urge to just walk right in, stopping and knocking softly. There was a scuffle of chairs being pushed back on the hardwood floor, a few light footsteps, and Molly peered through the curtain to see who was there. Seeing Harry, she quickly unlocked the door and pulled it open.
"Harry?" She stood back, allowing him to enter. She was slightly less than welcome, and Harry realized that she must have had many talks with Ginny over the past few weeks. After a good look at him though, her expression soften, noting his look of exhaustion and worry. Arthur was at the table, smoking his pipe with a cup of tea.
"What's the trouble, Harry?" he asked, as warm as ever.
Harry hesitated, unsure now that he was there. "Can…can I have a word, Mr. Weasley?"
"Of course, son." Arthur stood and put out an arm to lead him into the sitting room. "Molly, more tea I think?" His wife nodded without speaking, bustling over to the kettle. They sat by the fire and Molly filled their cups, disappearing back into the kitchen to eavesdrop from a distance.
"What brings you here so late?" Arthur blew on his steaming cup and looked over the rim at Harry who had no interest in his own tea but instead sat playing with the ring stationed once again on his pinky.
"I…I messed up, Mr. Weasley," he stated lamely.
"Please, Harry," he put up a hand to stop him. "Call me Arthur."
Harry nodded, staring into his cup. "I messed up, I didn't…I didn't expect her to actually leave me."
"Ah," Arthur nodded. "Then you have a lot to learn about the women in this family. They never do what you expect them to do, always the opposite." This wasn't helpful, and Harry's expression said as much. Arthur laughed, his eyes twinkling in the light of the fire. "Listen, Harry," he leaned forward in his seat, speaking low. "The key to getting on with them is simple." He glanced toward the kitchen conspiratorially. "Let them win, every time. Let them win, whatever the cost. Because, frankly, they are never wrong. Ever," he raised a finger before Harry could object. "Ever. They have things far more figured out than we ever will. Remember what I told you before. They are strong-minded, opinionated, and fierce, but," he smiled warmly, sitting back in his chair, "they are loyal, and love stronger than you can imagine. You haven't lost her yet. Not if you do the right thing."
"What's the right thing?"
"Absolutely everything she says."