we're one chapter closer to YOU KNOW WHAT guyssss!


After Ron and Harry's respective failures in apparition and persuading the ever reluctant Slughorn it feels as though they're destined for a sorry evening spent moping. Until Hermione pipes up with her small critique of Twycross and suddenly they're lost in that heady silliness of unstoppable shit-talking that mends the ailing heart. It's always fun, but somehow Hermione's added eyerolls and high-class vocabulary offer an extra bit of umph to the whole thing.

Harry swipes at the tears running down his cheeks while Hermione leads the way to the Great Hall. Ron tosses his arm around Harry's shoulder. "She's somethin' when she's all riled up, eh?"

"Er - sure?"

"Gets that look - then does something amazing and barmy like sticking Rita in a jar," Ron shakes his head, blue eyes going all dreamy, "S' times like these I see where her crazy Gryffindor streak comes in."

Biting back a grin, Harry silently wishes a certain Gryffindor Chaser wasn't missing this and nods along with Ron. "Gryffindor streak?"

"Yeah, everybody's got one," Ron says while Hermione guides them towards a place at the tables, "Know what I mean, Hermione?"

Inwardly, Harry wonders whether telling Hermione she's great 'cause she's barmy is a good idea. But then Ron surprises him, "Y'know how you've got that brave, loyal thing where you'll mess up anybody who crosses your friends?"

Hermione flushes, "I-"

"Well my theory's that everybody's got one of those - it's their crazy unstoppable Gryffindor thing."

Harry's really getting close to excusing himself when she pats at her curls and licks her lips. "Those aren't exclusively Gryffindor traits - I sometimes wonder about the sorting process altogether," she pauses, "But I - that's very sweet Ron. And I do understand the sentiment. Harry's would be 'obsessive with an inability to exercise any sort of impulse control.'"

Unable to resist, which does lend some credibility to Hermione's proclamation, Harry grabs a slice of crusty bread and gestures toward Ron, "What about King Weasley over here?"

"Brave idiot with no sense of self preservation," Hermione grumbles. Ron's ears grow red.

Ginny's arrival is only indicated moments before she actually turns up at Harry's shoulder, and he sounds a bit creepy because he smells her first. "Hey, Gin."

She rests one hand on his shoulder and he might almost faint. Ginny throws one leg over the bench and rests her elbow on the table. "Hi all, what's up here?"

Harry focuses on buttering his roll carefully and answers, "Well, see, Ron has this theory."

"Never a good thing to hear from a Weasley."

Hermione laughs and Ron scoffs, "All I said was that I believe every Gryffindor has their Gryffindor streak. That thing that's just a little bit wild."

"Sounds like a weird pick up line," Ginny murmurs to Harry. He buries his chuckle in a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Then for the group at large she asks, "Well, what's mine?"

"Zero impulse control and a wicked temper," Hermione supplies easily.

"You're just reusing one of mine," Harry accuses, slanting his knife at Hermione, gravy dripping from the edge.

Ron snickers and shares a glance with Hermione - maybe Ginny's right about the pick up - and says, "You're forgetting Hermione and I found you two in your little attempt at surfing brooms over the summer."

Winking at Harry, Ginny adds, "She's right anyway, I'm very fiery."

Then she proceeds to swipe his buttered roll and take a mouthful of a bite. "So what brought this little philosophical discussion up?"

Once they give the basics on Twycross' obnoxious Percy-esque antics that afternoon, Ginny wholeheartedly agrees and joins in their abuse without hesitation.

Ron grabs his pumpkin juice and raises it in salute, "Your loyalty is valued."

"I'm the only one who's allowed to act superior to you," Ginny says, indignant.

And when Harry snickers, Ginny adds, "Well Hermione too, but she's a given."

That earns her an eyeroll from Hermione, though she does laugh along with the rest of the foursome.

Harry can't help but bask in how easy it is, how perfect it feels, just the four of them. So when Ginny rises and says she's going to meet up with Dean, he can't really trust his judgement that she seems unhappy at the prospect.

He's so caught up he nearly misses Hermione's mutterings about Weasleys needing to 'take their love lives in hand.'


Operating under Felix Felicis is a heady sort of feeling and even after the effects are worn off, Harry feels like he's riding high. Until his emergency meeting with Dumbledore, which is certainly serious but doesn't deflate him - it's more like a sense of focus settles in and Harry feels like he finally has direction. For so much of his life at Hogwarts, he's been fumbling his way along to trying to stop various antagonists all connected to Voldemort. And now he's closing in on what it's all really about.

It's a small relief to know he's been on the path to stopping this since second year. The part that's still somewhat foggy is all Dumbledore's poetics about Harry's ability to love. Odd and confusing as it was, Harry's worried about becoming like Voldemort since seeing snippets of Voldemort's life as a normal wizard - relatively - at Hogwarts, reading his diary, the visions that feel more real each time, and being told so plainly that he's different is comforting in a way.

And lately, things have stirred in him that are more than simple infatuation, feelings he doesn't quite feel ready to name. But they're strong enough, powerful enough, that he feels just a bit of that strength, the tether Dumbledore seems so sure of.

It's hard to sort through his feelings when he hears that Dean and Ginny are no longer together, even harder when Hermione slyly underlines she's the one who's ended it. Sure, it's easy peasy to instantly know what he's feeling about Ron and Lavender breaking up (a pat on the back and a 'good riddance' might have been involved), but with Ginny...eh, that's a whole other business.

Is he delighted? Yes. Is he relieved? You'd bet. But does this finally make things less complicated? Not in the slightest.

It's not like he can suddenly kiss her in the middle of the Common Room now that she's single, right?

The pang of guilt at his Ginny-themed thoughts lessens somewhat after Hermione's proclamation during Charms. His Ron-related issues certainly remain but with Dean out of the picture, Harry's really hoping she's not too upset about the whole thing. Maybe it was all her idea…he has some fairly detailed daydreams where Ginny realized she couldn't find a match for Harry's glorious manliness anywhere else. He found himself wondering if he'd been able to replicate even an ounce of Sirius' coolness. That maybe it'd combine with his relatively superior Quidditch skills and outweigh what Ron terms his 'specky git' image.

Ugh. Ron.


Harry's stirring in bed, kicking the sheets to the side then tugging them back again: it's that late April weather when you're not quite chilly but it doesn't feel right sleeping without your covers either.

Quidditch strategies and players (read: player, girl) with flaming red hair buzz loudly through his thoughts as he wills his mind to just shut down, just go to sleep already.

"Reckon all that feminist talk of independence and shit was just her overcompensating for being a bit easy at first."

Harry's eyes pop open and frankly there's a high possibility the same has happened to a vein on his temple if Dean is talking about who Harry thinks he's talking, the rotten bastard, the bloody git, the -

"Shush, mate, one of her many brothers might hear you," Seamus laughs annoyingly and Harry's one step closer to jumping from behind his drawn curtains and knocking the wind out of them in a surprise attack he promises they'd never be able to forget.

Because Ron might be wandering about Merlin knows where but him, Harry, he's right there, listening, biding his time.

"Yeah, well, they'd better. I was bloody pissed when Ron threw a temper tantrum when they walked in on us snogging but now I take it back. He was right."

Prick. Nobody put a wand to his head and forced him to kiss Ginny.

"Wow, you sure are salty," Seamus laughs again and it sounds like Dean scoffs.

"She dumped me because I tried to help her through the bloody portrait hole, mate. She's mental, that one, I tell you. First I said alright, she didn't want to go further than some touches and some snogging, whatever, I said I'd give her time. But blue balls and snapping at me all the time for nothing? Bit too much, don't you reckon?"

Harry nearly rips the curtains as he violently draws them open, eyes bulging and ready to throttle Dean. Or he'd be if he could see anything - bugger his poor eyesight and bugger his Gryffindor temper, jumping into battle without his glasses.

But Ron is quicker than him, appearing next to Dean in a heartbeat and gripping him by the collar of his robes. Harry doesn't really know when exactly Ron walked through the door but, judging from his similar reaction, he'd surely been there for the whole blue balls bit.

"I know you're not talking about my sister like that," Ron growls dangerously, livid, his grip tighter.

"Get off me," Dean splutters as Seamus tries to reason with a nearly apoplectic Ron.

In the time it takes Harry to locate his glasses and recover his eyesight, a number of things happen: firstly, Neville wrestles Ron away from Dean; secondly, Dean decides it's a great moment to tell Ron he's part of the problem, always sticking his nose in Ginny's business; thirdly, Ron struggles to remove himself from Neville and grunts that only an idiot would trash talk a girl when her brother shares the room and keeps asking Dean if he's an idiot; fourthly, and Harry vaguely remembers this, he somehow thrusts his wand underneath Dean's chin and vows to curse his tongue right off if he ever so much as pronounces Ginny's name.

Then they're out of there, Ron and him, Ron rambling on about how Ginny has six brothers and how the least scary is a poncey Ministry worker with an axe to grind. Harry'd laugh, he really would, if he weren't so busy fuming himself.

Hermione nearly has a heart attack when they plop grunting next to her on the saggy sofa, disturbing her studies. She gives them a long look, pats their respective arms and turns back to her reading.

They'll tell her when they're done raging. Hermione knows it and they know.

For now, they need to boil individually for awhile and then - oh, then they'll abuse Dean to no end between the three of them.

Harry's never looked forward to anything more.


Harry feels oddly giddy when he walks onto the pitch, adrenaline running through every inch of his body, from his buzzing ears to his fingertips. He's finally got his team back and that means nothing's coming between Gryffindor and the Quidditch Cup.

It also means that Dean's finally out of the team now that Katie's back, but who's focusing on details, eh?

"Alright, team!" Ginny grins, arranging her high pony tail and kicking her broom once, twice before she zooms up. "Let's focus and give everything we have today. We're going to skin those Ravenclaw gits!"

And though Harry really does appreciate the sentiment and his team's new found enthusiasm, he is still the captain and thus must maintain his authority.

"What Ginny said," he puffs his chest and kicks his broom up too. At least he tried.

He's well aware of the unsubtle giggling coming from Demelza and Katie as well as Ginny's sudden determination to fly so close by him Harry's lungs fill with that flowery scent she carries. Soon enough he's so dizzy he doesn't even notice the Quaffle careening straight to his head.

"Wake up, Captain," Ginny winks and retrieves the Quaffle, immediately pelting it to the hoops with such force and accuracy, Ron's quite winded when he catches it in his stomach.

"You did that on purpose!" Ron complains as he angrily rubs at his stomach.

Ginny simply shrugs, "Not my fault you're such a slowpoke."

Anticipating a sibling feud about to go down, Harry blows his whistle and calls the team to the centre of the pitch to explain the new tactics and flying formation they'll use against Ravenclaw. He did channel all his Dean related frustration into drafting them so it's no surprise when Katie remarks it's a bit more attack than defence.

"That means we'll skin them," Demelza grins, elbowing Ginny.

Harry gets lost in her blazing brown eyes for a beat, then remembers himself and clears his throat. "Right. Peaks, Coote, this time you'll be focusing on the Keeper. Ginny, Katie, Demelza, you score at full speed while the Beaters keep him busy. Ron, you're not letting them get into your head; sing Weasley is our King to yourself if you have to but don't let them mess with you, yeah?"

Everybody nods and from then there's the most exhausting, gruelling, and rewarding practice Harry's ever had. He's completely knackered and entirely chuffed with what they've done today, his team.

Once they hit the lockers, steam rising from the small shower cubicles, Harry finally allows himself to relax; his muscles burn as he works every kink on his shoulders, his back. Lather, rinse, towel.

He hears Ron yawn a 'Later, mate' before he even gets a chance to get dressed - more than likely running full speed towards the Great Hall for dinner, the ever hungry git.

Harry's certain he's the only one left, having heard his team's cheery goodbyes as they filed out one by one. So he doesn't think much when he prances around in a towel hanging loose over his hips, plopping on the bench with a satisfied moan as he dries his perpetually messy hair.

"Nice," Ginny smirks and Harry nearly screams in his decidedly not macho voice.

She's at the door, eyeing him smugly, big, cheeky grin on her face.

"What are you doing there?" Harry manages to ask her once he's finished his double over.

"Enjoying myself," Ginny shrugs, completely unabashed. "See you later, Harry."

Harry can bet his broom she winks before she closes the door behind her, leaving him staring awkwardly in her wake, little droplets of water streaming down his face, his chest in rivulets.