Ron walked down the stairs wearily and yawned once, twice. He had slept well the previous night, but was still very tired. He hadn't slept all week and felt exhausted. Ron hadn't seen Harry, Neville, Seamus or Dean in the dorm, so he assumed they were all up already, having breakfast.
As he walked down the stairs to the common room, he stopped as his eyes fell on Harry. His best friend was slumped in a chair in front of the fire…which was lit. Ron frowned. Harry knew the rules; no one was allowed to light the fire on their own, not even Head Boy. It was dangerous.
Ron walked over to Harry and looked at him intently. His arms were folded up against him, like he was trying to use them as comfort, and he had small bags around his closed eyes. Ron bit his lip. Harry had been through so much. So had he. But obviously, through Harry's bravery and strength, he had been doing better than his best friend had without realising it.
Ron wondered why others had walked through here and past him without waking him. Maybe they had, but he'd simply fallen asleep again. Or maybe they hadn't noticed him. Or maybe, they decided he deserved the sleep and didn't want to disturb him.
Which was exactly what Ron was feeling now. But…he glanced at his watch…it was 8:53. There was a Quidditch match, which was supposed to be starting in 7 minutes. But how could they start without their captain? Ron was a chaser, he needed to be there too, but Harry was the captain and the seeker – if they didn't have him they'd have to forfeit the match.
Finally deciding what to do, Ron reached a hand out to Harry's shoulder and gently shook it. "Harry?" Ron whispered. Then, seeing no reaction to this, he spoke a bit louder. "Harry? Wake up Harry, you lazy git…" Harry stirred. His eyes fluttered open and gazed at Ron meaninglessly. He frowned at him a moment and Ron did the best he could to grin. "It's me Harry; Ron. Come on, wake up, you've got a Quidditch match this morning, remember?"
Ron knew that at any mention of Quidditch, Harry would be alert wherever and whenever he was. It was useful for getting his attention when he was daydreaming in class. The professors had begun to realise that, and so it was quiet funny for the rest of the class when a teacher would pause momentarily in the middle of a lesson, noticing Harry's gaze out of a nearby window, to shout "Quidditch!"
Harry's eyes shot open, and Ron smiled as he checked his watch quickly. "Shit, Ron! Why didn't you wake me earlier?!"
"I've only just woken up as well!" Ron protested. He grinned. "It's Saturday morning; you're the early bird, not me. You're supposed to wake me up."
Harry sprung up and unconsciously felt his neck under his T-shirt for something. Feeling the necklace Hermione had given him, he jumped up and ran up to his dormitory, pulled some jeans on, got his Quidditch robes, and ran out of the common room with Ron, down to the field.
Down in the changing rooms, Harry's team looked at him worriedly. Though they tried not to give him any special attention, as by his request, they couldn't help but worry. Any normal person would worry if their friend's long-time best friend and short-time girlfriend had just died saving him.
Harry picked up his broom and ran his hand along the wood nervously. His first Quidditch match without Hermione. He remembered the times when they'd won; he'd fly down low to where Hermione was standing, and he would settle there just for a moment to give her a quick kiss, then would zoom back up again to his team mates. It was almost like a tradition.
Harry's team mates surrounded him right now; they included Ron, two fifth year girls called Lesley Barren and Jenny Wourts as chasers, a young third year called Genevieve Johnstone as keeper, and a fifth year boy and a sixth year girl called Kial Johnstone and Megan Smith to replace the famous Fred and George Weasley as beaters (Fred and George Weasley were twins, who were famous at knocking the stuffing out of the opposite team; but they had left the previous year to open up their own joke shop called "Weasley Weasels").
Everyone waited patiently for Harry's traditional speech that he always gave at the start of the first Quidditch matches of each of the seasons. Nothing happened. Harry glanced at everyone, and sighed. "You know the drill," was all he said, before leaving his astonished team mates behind to half walk, and half fly, out onto the field.
Harry flew around a bit to warm up, then finally settled at the top above everyone, where he had a picture-perfect view of everyone and everything. Draco Malfoy, for who knew what reason, but probably by his dad's hand, was the opposing seeker; the Slytherin seeker. He flew past Harry quickly and sped round fast, showing off, before stopping mid-air opposite Harry, a few metres away. Malfoy smiled evilly. Even after what had just happened, he could still feel no sympathy for his enemy. "Ready to lose or do you wanna give up now, Potter?"
"Eat shit, Malfoy," said Harry, barely bothering to show any emotion at all. "I'm in no mood today."
"I hope you don't think I'm gonna go easy on you, just because…of…you know…of what happened," Malfoy eased out somewhat uncomfortably.
Harry smiled seriously. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
Harry was faintly aware of a whistle blowing, and realised the game had started, and Ron was speeding towards the hoops holding the quaffle firmly under one arm. He sped towards the hoops, and the first goal was won. Harry smiled. It was Ron's own target. Whether they won or lost, he always liked to have scored the first goal on his own.
"Harry, watch out!" It was Megan who had shouted. Harry turned and ducked just before a bludger knocked him out. Now that would've been disastrous. He looked over at two guys called Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, the Slytherin beaters. They grinned at him mischievously, and Harry smiled back. They looked at each, confused, then simply flew away. Harry shook his head. What dodos!
Harry sighed and guessed it was time to look for the snitch. He had kind of been hoping for a quick game, and only the catch of the snitch could do that. And he didn't want to just let the other team win – it would be admitting defeat. He knew Hermione wouldn't have wanted him to do that.
So Harry flew and twirled around the stadium, hearing the sounds of cheers below from his fellow Griffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs. A few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs of course favoured Slytherin, but that was because before, Slytherin had always won the House Cup, which was played for at the end of the year. But since Harry and a few others had come along in their first year at Hogwarts and had made the Griffindor team invincible, some of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had become annoyed, and now wished their own teams or even Slytherin to win instead. It never happened. Griffindor had won every single year apart from Harry's fourth and sixth year when Slytherin had won. In the fourth year, they hadn't had a House Cup played because there was something different which they had that year that was called a "Triwizard Tournament", and the year just before Slytherin had won, simply because of Hermione's death. Harry and the rest of Griffindor and a few others had wanted Dumbledore to cancel because of Hermione's sad and untimely death, but Dumbledore had simply insisted that "the show must go on". So everyone was too depressed to care, and Slytherin had taken the snitch and won.
Thinking hard about the words Dumbledore had uttered, Harry flew with a strong sense of longing as he scanned around the stadium for the tiny, golden, winged ball. He had to win. He'd let his time down the previous year. Even though they had all suffered, the rest had carried on bravely, listening to Dumbledore's words. It was Harry's depressed state which had lost them the cup.
Something sparkly flew straight passed Harry's eyes in a daze, and Harry immediately followed the fast darting snitch down to the ground. Unfortunately, Malfoy had seen Harry's quick dive and had followed. But Harry's broom was faster – he had a Firebolt 3000, and Malfoy only had a Firebolt 1000.
Harry got closer and closer to the snitch. It was a darty little bugger, but with all of Harry's experience, being on the team for seven years had brought him skill to know exactly where the snitch would dart in the next two seconds. Which was very handy when you were centimetres away from it.
Harry reached out his hand to the place he knew it would go, and snatched it quickly and firmly, closing up his hand. Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and shouted to confirm the fact that the match was over, and that Griffindor had won 190 – 20. Harry sped back up into the air and everyone around him whooped and cheered. Without meaning to, Harry glanced over at the familiar place where Hermione had always sat with Lavender and Parvati, anticipating the end, where she would hopefully receive her kiss.
He looked away in pain and stared down at the snitch in his hand. The golden wings fluttered up at him happily. Tears began to swell up in Harry's eyes and pain returned to his heart. An empty defeat, he thought. An empty defeat.
"Yeah!" shouted Ron. "We won, we're the best, go us!" He banged butterbeers with Dean and they drunk it down. Everyone was in the common room, celebrating Griffindor's success in the first match of the year.
Harry sat in a corner feeling morbid and depressed. He could see out of the corner of his eye two girls whispering and looking at him. One pushed the other forward, and the one who had been pushed somewhat reluctantly walked over to where Harry was sat. He groaned. He hoped he wasn't going to get any more sympathy. All he needed right now was a friend.
He looked up at the figure standing above him. It was Lavender. They smiled at each other in acknowledgement, and Lavender took the seat next to Harry. "Great game!" she said grinning.
Harry smiled. "Yeah, it was. Over a bit quick though."
"Thanks to you!" Lavender laughed. "I don't know about you, but I don't like to stand outside in the cold for too long in the middle of September!"
Harry tried hard to forget about Hermione and grinned weakly. "Good point! I never notice the cold when I'm up in the air though."
"Really?" asked Lavender, sounding genuinely fascinated. "But the cold air whips past you like a bullet-" (Harry loved the way Lavender related things to her muggle life at home), "-shouldn't you be colder than we are down in the stands?"
"Not really," Harry explained. "Well, maybe I should be, but I need to concentrate, so I always try to block out the pain…" he stopped abruptly. He remembered the pain of missing Hermione at the end of the game that day. He knew he would never be able to block that pain out – whatever he did.
Lavender noticed the change in Harry's expression, and bit her lip. Harry tried to continue, but no words came out. He gave up and rested his head in a hand, breathing heavily, trying desperately hard not to cry.
"Want me to get Ron?" Lavender whispered, and Harry nodded, squeezing his eyes together tightly, in hope to get rid of Hermione in his head. But closing his eyes probably made it worse.
He opened them to a crouched Ron, looking up in his eyes. The room was still noisy, and people were clattering drinks together and laughing about nothing in particular. "You all right, mate?" Ron asked.
Harry shook his head. "No. Can we go somewhere else? I'm getting a head-ache from all this noise." Ron nodded and stood up, helping Harry to stand by taking him by the arm and pulling. They left the room quickly, trying not to get any unwanted attention. But there were two caring brown eyes which followed them out all the way, not leaving Harry's face until he had gone.
Ron and Harry walked straight to Hagrid's hut. They had started to go there more recently since Hermione's death. Harry thought of it as kind of…his sanctuary. A warm loving place away from all the chaos back in the castle, and Hagrid was actually very wise, once you got used to his strange way of telling you things.
"I miss her so much," Harry breathed out, as he and Ron walked, almost in silence.
Ron sighed and patted Harry on the back. "I know. So do I. She was a great girl." He glanced at Harry's pained expression, and added, "She really loved you."
Harry closed his eyes, left them shut for a while, but then opened them again, breathing out heavily. "Thanks," was all he could say.
They rapped on Hagrid's door softly, and instantly heard a barking noise. Harry and Ron could hear Fang's happy scratching on the door, and as soon as Hagrid opened it he leapt out, licking first Ron's face then Harry's. The two boys smiled and scratched Fang behind his ears. "Good boy," said Ron, ushering the over-excited dog back into the hut. Harry smiled after him as he closed the door from inside the hut. Fang was a very old dog. In fact, Harry reckoned that he should have been dead for quite a few years. But he had never mentioned his suspicions to Hagrid's face.
"'Ello, 'arry; Ron. I 'aint seen you two fer a while." Hagrid smiled and turned his back on them to fiddle with something on his stove. Harry loved Hagrid's strange accent.
"How are you Hagrid?" Harry asked, sitting down and welcoming the warmth of the nearby fire.
"Don't ya think I should be askin' you that?" Hagrid put down two mugs of coffee on the little table in front of Harry and Ron.
Harry said nothing and simply sipped on his coffee, staring at the table, pretending he hadn't heard Hagrid. Ron glanced at his friend, then gave Hagrid a meaningful look. Hagrid nodded understanding, and sat down opposite them.
"Crackin' game t'day, lads," Hagrid said, tactfully changing the subject to one of Harry's favourites: Quidditch.
Ron nodded. "I got the first goal in!" He said smiling.
"Don't yeh always?" Hagrid said laughing. He glanced towards Harry, who was still sipping and staring into space.
" 'arry?"
Nothing.
" 'arry?"
This time Harry looked up. "What? Sorry, Hagrid, what were you saying?"
Hagrid smiled and shook his head softly. "It don' matter."
Harry sighed. "Sorry. I just can't stop thinking about her."
No one in that hut had to ask who the 'her' was. Everyone felt exactly the same. Even Fang sidled up to Harry and licked his face, trying to cheer him up. Hagrid looked deep into Harry's eyes. "I know, I know. But it will pass. Trust me."
"I'll never forget about her!"
"No, no, I doubt that'll ever 'appen, 'arry," Hagrid said truly, agreeing. "But the pain. That'll stop. Jus' give it time."
Harry nodded and stared down at his cup. It was empty. And so was he. Ron, seeing Harry's look, stood up. "We'd better be getting back," he said. Harry stood. "Thanks for the coffee, Hagrid."
Hagrid nodded and he too stood up. As Harry walked past Hagrid to leave out of the door, he did something, which he hadn't done in years. He turned to Hagrid and hugged him. Hagrid held him tightly and patted his head. Harry had grown quite a bit since his first few years, but Hagrid was still a giant to him. He pulled away and looked at Hagrid thankfully. No one words passed between the two, and Harry left, running to catch up with Ron. Hagrid watched the two walking up to the castle together, side by side, and he smiled.