Saturday: The Next Day
Harry eased his lithe body into a soft armchair in the Gryffindor common room. Every inch seemed to ache and throb from the Quidditch match earlier that day. He winced, as much from his bruises as from the memory of being knocked from his broom by a well-aimed Slytherin Bludger. The Slytherin team went on to a crushing win, giving the Gryffindor Keeper a concussion in the process. Harry groaned, thinking of Draco's smirking face and mocking voice.
"How do you think your precious Ann will like you now, Potter? Losing team and black eye and all. Maybe I'll pay her a little visit, see if she's amenable to a better caliber of escort."
He sighed deeply, rubbing his scarred forehead with one hand, closing his emerald eyes in pure shame. She probably would want to be around better people- he certainly didn't have anything to offer a girl from a family like hers.
He jerked out of his thoughts when someone touched his shoulder. "Harry? Are you alright?"
Ann. His body tensed and released in a spasm of pleasure. God, even her voice affected him.
"I'm okay. Just a little sore, and really tired." He leaned his head back in the chair to look at her face above his. She smiled sweetly and folded her arms across the back of the armchair, laying her head close to his.
"I saw the game today."
He groaned inwardly. "Shit. I wish you hadn't. We weren't exactly impressive out there today."
"I though you did fine until your Keeper got clocked. It's too bad your Beaters never played hockey- I bet they could take out a few opponents with a good body check."
He grinned. "You know that's illegal."
"Never stopped Wayne Gretzky." She grinned back. She'd spent a dinner hour teaching Ron, Harry and Hermione all about hockey. "Anyway, you did great." She patted his shoulder.
"No, I really didn't. I should have seen Malfoy coming before he hit me with that Bludger. Little prick." He gripped his chair arms.
"He is a fool, I'll give you that. Y'know, he propositioned me after the game. What a git." She smiled-- Ron had been teaching her slang again.
Harry felt a cold stone in his stomach. "He did what?"
"He tried to ask me out, I think. Not too smooth, though. He spent a good quarter hour insulting you, then asked me if I wouldn't rather pass the time with a real man, a man of my own class." She smirked to herself.
"What did you tell him?" Harry clenched his teeth in anger. I'll pound him into the ground. I'll kill him. I'll curse him. Please don't let her have said yes.
He flinched as her hand came down on the top of his head. "Harry! What do you think I said?! Actually, I didn't say anything. I laughed in his face and walked away." She stroked his hair gently with the hand that had just slapped him. He felt his body tremble as her fingers smoothed his sweaty hair away from his forehead. Every finger seemed to be sending a tiny electric charge into his scalp.
"He's a pompous little toad. I wouldn't be seen with him if every man on the planet suddenly dropped dead. Besides, he stinks when he's sweaty."
Harry was suddenly self-conscious of his own sweaty Quidditch robes. He started to get out of the chair. "Speaking of, I should go shower."
For the second time, Ann pushed him back into his seat. "Sit. You're tired, and I said Malfoy stinks, not you." She moved in front of him to sit on a large ottoman at his feet. "Draco smells like something rotten and nasty and musty- it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Whereas you smell like leather and outside." She smiled, almost dreamily, resting a hand on his knee, then leaning an elbow on his thigh.
He was terrified, thinking that at any moment she would retreat into that dark, sad place and run away. They had grown closer over the last month, comfortable with sitting close together when studying or relaxing, exchanging the occasional touch on the shoulder or pat on the hand. He had gone so far, after one Quidditch victory, as to hug her. He had been jubilant, thrilled with the game and strangely euphoric that she had seen him win. Without thinking, he had scooped her into his arms and buried his head in her rich hair. She hadn't pushed him away, nor had she since then.
He tentatively reached out a hand, still clad in his leather Quidditch glove, and rested it gently over her arm. She propped her chin on his hand and gazed up into his eyes.
"Why do I feel so comfortable with you, Harry Potter? I feel like I've known you forever."
"It's the glasses. Makes me look trustworthy." He chuckled.
"That must be it."
They sat for a while, in silence. He stroked her hair absently with his free hand, drawing long strands of it out of her loose braid. She sighed, arching her neck to meet his fingers as he teased her hair free of the elastic band. Her own fingers whispered over his knees, tiny spider touches that sent chills up his spine.
Harry debated furiously with himself; should he ask her about the nightmares? Was she finally comfortable enough to tell him? Or would he just scare her away?
"Ann?" He took a deep breath. "Can I ask you something, kind of personal?"
"What is it, Harry?" He felt her tense against his leg.
"I don't want to upset you, or scare you, or hurt you. I just...we're all...I'm worried about you, we're all worried about you," he rushed the words out. "You don't eat, you're shaky all the time, you're nervous...and Hermione said you have nightmares. Please, Ann, we care about you and we're really worried." She shifted as if to get up, and he grabbed her hand. "Please don't run away. Ann, don't go off and hide again. I care about you, and I hate seeing you like this."
She could hear the tears in his voice, cutting through her desire to run, to hide, to get away from him. He was holding her hand tightly against his chest to keep her from bolting from the room. She wanted so much to tell him, but at the same time she could feel his hands on her instead of Harry's.
"Harry, please. Please let me go. Please stop touching me. Please!" She struggled against him, dragging him to his feet in her efforts to pull away from him. He instinctively grabbed her around the shoulders, pulling her tightly against him.
"Ann! Ann, stop it! Stop it! You have to talk to me, please! Ann!" She pushed and fought against him with increasing desperation.
"Stop touching me!!" she screamed against his chest. "Please stop! I don't want to do this! Professor Malfoy!! Stop!!"
Harry froze, still holding her tightly against his chest. Professor Malfoy?! What the hell?!
She screamed and sobbed against his chest, great heaving sobs that shook them both. She didn't fight as he lowered himself into the armchair and pulled her into his lap. She curled tightly against his body and he wrapped his arms around her.
"Ann. Oh God, Ann. What did he do to you?"