Chapter 5: The Day After
Harry awoke the following morning to the whispered conversation of his sixth-year roommates, still in their beds and discussing the Gryffindor ball in what can only be described as hushed elation.
"I was surprised at all the people that turned up," said Neville after Dean and Seamus had each finished naming the four or five people they had danced with. "I know. That was a fair turnout for just three days notice. Lavender had fun—I take it, right Seamus?"
There was a loud snort followed by a roar of laughter and many shushing noises. "Parvati must've been tired though," said Dean, and immediately Harry was wide awake. "She went back up to the girls' dorm early." More giggling, followed by more shushing. Harry didn't know whether to be concerned about that or not.
"What are you lot on about," Harry heard Ron say in an annoyed whisper. "Oh... nothing," Dean answered sarcastically. "By the way, how was the reunion with Padma? I noticed you left for a while. Care to give us the details?" "No. We just walked her home."
Harry thought Ron's tone suggested that there was a vivid flush upon his face just now, and whether or not the other boys had picked up on it as well, there was renewed laughter. "Whose home would that be?" Dean asked suggestively. "I meant dorm, okay." "I take it she's not mad at you about the Yule Ball anymore, then?"
Harry continued to feign sleep even as the questions became more and more inappropriate, until the murmur of many little conversations from the common room below beckoned for them to join.
"Harry," Ron whispered uncertainly as the other boys left the room and headed downstairs. "I'm awake," he answered, relieved that only Ron was left. "Oh," said Ron, a bit surprised, "well, we'll be in the common room. Sounds like everyone's down there talking 'bout last night." "Okay, I'll catch you up in a minute."
Harry remained in bed even after the door had shut. After the momentary rush of dread at the conversation the others had been having, Harry could now extend his lie-in; it was Saturday after all. He let loose a great yawn, stretching intensely, and slowly began to recall the events of the previous evening.
He could remember all the excited faces, the dance floor full of students, the music, and all of the lights. Harry also remembered having a great deal of fun dancing with Hermione, as well as teaching others how to swing. And then there was Neville and Luna, sitting together, looking quite pleased.
Harry couldn't help but smile at this thought. But then Harry's stroll down memory lane took an unpleasant turn. He saw Ginny looking daggers at him, making him feel aghast. He found himself in a dark, shadowy hallway with Parvati pressing in on him from seemingly all sides, almost suffocating him.
Then, quite suddenly, he thought of the time when Cho had kissed him under the mistletoe last December and immediately realized that he preferred her softer, more tender advance to that of Parvati's aggressive, almost forceful one. Parvati's hands, he thought, almost terrified him; the way they moved unabated across his body, as if their reach far exceeded their actual length. His mind however, returned to Cho.
Last night she looked as pretty as ever despite her very casual attire, as well as the unpleasant looks she threw him because of Gabrielle. "I didn't know she could speak French," Harry said to himself, remembering the seamless way Cho had changed, mid-sentence, from English to French when she had spoken to the little part-veela.
But then the memory of Gabrielle gracefully accepting Mark's timorously outstretched arm entered his mind and he suddenly imagined how they must have looked dancing together, which brought yet another smile to his face.
Then Harry thought about the picture they had just taken when he and Cho had caught up with them and immediately wanted to see it; to see the two people he had so spontaneously, yet so perfectly, matched together when, once again, the memory of Cho's reproving expression interrupted him.
Harry shook his head clear, suddenly aware of the fact that he hadn't thought of Cho this much since before he saw her at the Puddlemere United match; of course, he had been concentrating on her flaws before then.
Harry knew he wasn't infatuated with her anymore, but he was every bit as sure that she was one of those people you're lucky to know. She was a mess last year, he admitted, but not all the other years; like when they played against each other in his third. Cho even wished him good luck right before his match with Slytherin for the quidditch cup.
And in his forth year, he remembered how much better he felt at the simple sight of Cho without a "Support Cedric Diggory" badge when almost everyone else felt that way; even Ron. Harry frowned at the thought, but it was quickly replaced by something that made him smile instead; "Hermione's never doubted me."
Harry jumped out of bed and changed out of his pajamas, thinking that, if he were already dressed, he could make a quick getaway to the Great Hall if it became necessary. Harry had a paranoid suspicion that he would become the subject of more than one of those common room conversations once he got down there.
If the others had noticed Ron's absence, they would have noticed his as well; and especially Parvati's. But they might just think Parvati went up to Gryffindor tower straight away when we all left, he thought to himself, and his paranoia relaxed a bit. "Please let them think that," he said out loud.
Turning this hopeful thought into an outspoken wish reassured him somehow and he continued anxiously, taking the spiral steps one at a time. Parvati wouldn't go and tell anyone that we kissed, I mean, I don't think I did a very good job of it; and she wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea of her.
He agreed with his own reasoning and calmly quickened his pace. Just then another thought entered his mind; a most absurd idea that Harry initially laughed away even before it had fully formed, but not before it had brought back the memory of the small smile Parvati had given him at the end of their time alone together in the shadows.
Harry stopped dead in his tracks; the absurd thought had taken over. What if she liked it? What if he, Harry, had done a good job of it? Parvati might tell everyone—maybe start a rumor. A chill ran down his spine.
She could start a rumor if I was horrible too; she would if I was that bad. Harry looked out of the window he had inadvertently stopped besides, and was half-hoping that he could just squeeze through and jump to his death when his eyes caught a part of the school's lake he and Hermione had taken a walk around once before; he had been extremely upset on that occasion as well.
Harry paced back and forth on the step he had stopped on, thinking out loud. "What would Hermione say? What would Hermione say? What would Hermione say?" "What would I say about what," came Hermione's voice
Harry's heart gave a particularly loud thump the instant his eyes met Hermione's; the expression on her face was that of delight, almost triumphant. He would have felt as though he'd just been caught in the act of doing something wrong had he not felt his heart stop at what he saw next.
His eyes had been drawn to Hermione's only slightly covered bosom, and then traveled down her figure before he thought to look away. Harry hoped she hadn't seen him stare down her maturing body, slightly evident beneath her clothes, and felt immediately disgusted with himself for being distracted by her blossoming figure when he had much more pressing matters to think about; like suicide.
"Well if it isn't the toast of the tower," she said loftily. Panic filled Harry's mind, speeding it into action. Parvati might have told Lavender what happened between them, in fact, he was sure of it, and since Hermione was in the same dorm, she could have overheard everything; which meant he couldn't deny it... not to Hermione. That must be why she was here. She wants to confront me with what everyone in the common room, everyone in the whole school, must be talking about by now.
"Good job Harry," she said proudly, and Harry couldn't believe his ears. He looked at her, a bit surprised, a bit confused, but totally frightened. "What," he said timidly. "Good job. Everyone's talking about it." "Everyone knows?" Hermione's expression changed from delight to bewilderment.
"Are we talking about the same thing," she asked. Something in his brain clunked into place. Hermione didn't know; she was talking about last night's party, not his kiss with Parvati. "Oh... you were talking about the ball," he said, laughing uncomfortably.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I was. What were you talking about?" His mind, which hadn't stopped working even as he answered Hermione's first question, now locked onto an idea.
"Mark Evans," he replied confidently. He fought hard to keep his expression blank, feeling as though he had just narrowly escaped something dreadful, like when Ron and Ginny almost caught the pair of them in a hug.
"Didn't you here? I set him up with Gabrielle. You know, Fleur's little sister, in Ravenclaw." Harry smiled at her thinking it could only add to his persuasiveness, but he was mistaken. Instead she regarded his grin with obvious suspicion.
"I wouldn't have figured you for a match maker," she said evenly. Harry shrugged, still trying to smile innocently. "Well, the idea came to me all of a sudden and I just went along with it, that's all." Harry paused, realizing that they were having this conversation in the boys' staircase, which felt a little suspicious.
"Anyway, were you coming to fetch me or something," Harry asked, hoping he could catch her off balance. Hermione however, was a bit quicker on the uptake. "What was it you were wondering I'd say," she asked him casually. "Oh that, I was just wondering," Harry began, but then he paused, lost for words.
He felt suddenly outmatched by Hermione's cleverness and, try as he might to think of an explanation, he could not invent one that she wouldn't have easily picked apart. But just as the feeling of imminent defeat threatened to force out a confession, Hermione made a guess. "Is it a girl?" she asked evenly.
"Well," Harry paused, thinking hard, "...kind of." He looked away, playing for time. True, Harry missed the late-night talks he had enjoyed with Tonks back in August and, although the answers she gave seemed to only confuse him more, he wanted that feeling of openness with someone again.
And when on the subject of the female-half of the species, Harry knew he felt very comfortable talking to Hermione. "Harry," she began, her voice tentative, "you said that Ron and I were the closest people to you, remember?" Harry heard the pang in her voice and knew her feelings would be hurt if she thought he wasn't being open and forthcoming with her.
"You are, only I wouldn't know exactly what to tell you," he reassured her truthfully; he honestly didn't know what to tell her. "Let me help you figure it out then," she pleaded, walking up to him. Harry considered this, noticing her peculiar fragrance once again.
"Okay... but not here, not now." "Then when," she half-demanded, and Harry could sense her impatience. "Today, I promise." "Don't you have a quidditch meeting today," she reminded him. "Oh... right," he remembered, but then quickly made up his mind, "I'll just skip it."
Hermione suddenly looked a little anxious, "But doesn't the team have to pick a new captain?" "Sure, but we have to replace the chasers first, Angelina and Alicia have left," Harry paused, "we should hold tryouts for beaters as well."
They laughed at this, and as they did, a familiar feeling came flooding back into Harry's head and he suddenly remembered that urge he had had the last time Hermione questioned his openness with her; the urge to hold her.
"Anyway," he began, grinning slightly and feeling a bit furtive, "with Ron and Ginny busy, we'll be alone... to talk." Hermione's eyes widened slightly and she cleared her throat. "Alright then," she said after a moment, "I'll wait for you at the lake when it's time for the quidditch meeting." Harry nodded and Hermione started off.
"I've been meaning to ask you," he called after her, and she turned back to him. "What's that perfume you're always wearing now?" Harry saw an uneasiness settle in her brown eyes. "Oh, ah... I got it last Christmas," she began, but Harry suddenly remembered last year's Christmas at Grimmauld Place.
"Oh, right... Ron's present." During the awkward silence that followed, Harry felt his urge to hold her drain away, replaced by a feeling something like betrayal. "Ron might misunderstand, you know," said a dry voice somewhere in his head.
Harry looked at Hermione for a moment, suddenly regretting his best friends. "You'd better get down there," he said finally, "We really shouldn't... together." Hermione looked tense, even a bit worried.
"Oh. Well, see you later, then," she said, and there was something curiously pleading in her voice, as though she weren't entirely sure he would actually meet her. Harry smiled dolefully at Hermione, who hesitated and then walked off, casting one last look of concerned before she disappeared around the bend.
A moment later, Harry's worst fears were confirmed the second he entered the common room. The friendly greetings and compliments took such an instant turn for the worse that Harry didn't even stop to talk, heading directly for the portrait hole as the suggestions regarding his half-hour absence were comically blurted out; rather like Fred and George making public accusations.
When he had walked halfway down the marble staircase, he met the Creevey brothers returning from an early breakfast and looking quite excited. "We've just come from the Great Hall and everyone's asking when their pictures will be ready."
"How long will that take anyway?" Harry asked, suddenly thinking about all the pictures he wanted to see, especially the one of Gabrielle and Mark. "Not sure really, but we told everyone to wait till Monday."
"Well," Harry said suggestively, "I hope the ones of the committee will be ready first... that would be a nice treat." The Creevey brothers exchanged a quick look and then beamed at Harry. "We can manage those sometime... tonight, I think," Colin said happily, and Dennis nodded. "Brilliant, only let's keep this a secret from the others. We'll surprise them," he said.
When Harry reached the entrance hall some ten minutes later, he found that he wasn't really hungry yet. The dazzling morning sun he had seen through the castle windows on his way down had tempted him to wander outdoors instead.
Perhaps because his mind had preoccupied itself with what was sure to be the negative reactions from his fellow teammates for having missed the first quidditch meeting of the season, he soon found himself at the pitch.
Harry briefly wished he had thought of this sooner and that he had brought his Firebolt along with him, but then, just as he decided to simply summon if from his dormitory room, he discovered he had forgotten his wand as well.
"Bloody Hell," he muttered to himself. Then Harry looked up at the sky, which was a clear, deep blue and decided that a school broom would have to serve his sudden impulse. He apathetically selected one from the locker room, half-irate with himself for his lack of foresight. But as soon as he had kicked off the ground and pulled into a steady climb just a few minutes later, his anger abated and the familiar rush of flying took over him.
Having been thoroughly spoiled by his own Firebolt, Harry immediately noticed the school broom's diminished capabilities and, at once, felt an added excitement at the thought that the danger of him crashing on this broom would be higher than he was use to.
Harry grinned to himself and pulled back on his broom handle so that he fell backwards, straight into a power dive. As always his timing was impeccable and, about three seconds sooner than he would've had he only had his broom, pulled out of the dive and allowed his momentum to carry him up the field.
Harry barely reacted in time as he pulled his broom into another stiff climb in order to avoid a broomstick, which had zoomed dangerously across his path, almost colliding with him. He caught sight of Cho's broad grin as she sped off towards the other end of the pitch and, feeling another rush, immediately tore after her.
She seemed as graceful as ever on her Comet, which was saying something as it was an old broom and, after a minute or so in which Harry tried in vain to catch her, Cho slowed to a stop in midair so that he could pull up next to her.
"Bored of your Firebolt already, or did you just miss flying on one of our fancy school brooms?" They were both still a bit excited from the chase and took a moment to catch their breath. "Neither," Harry answered. "I hadn't counted on coming here, so I left my broom back in my dorm. But..." he gestured at the open air. Cho smiled and nodded, looking up to the sky.
"What are you doing here so early?" he asked her. "Me? I'm always here this early. I lost my starting job," she said, smiling rather indifferently, "and I want it back." Harry nodded. "I heard about that, sorry. But I don't think there's anyone as good as you in all of Ravenclaw. You're bound to get it back."
A small smile touched her lips and she began to blush. "Well, let's put that to the test then, shall we," she suddenly said, flashing Harry a mischievous grin, "Ten, nine, eight—" "What are you doing?" Harry asked, but she ignored him. "Seven, six, five—"
Harry wheeled his broomstick around and took off. A moment later he turned and immediately spotted the small figure of Cho closing in. Harry had to go to his specialty move several times in order to escape her; Cho could not dive as well as he could, and he used this advantage to give himself some breathing room each time she drew too near. Cho however, would not be denied.
Harry looked back and dove away from Cho's grasp yet again. But the instant he had finished pulling out of this last dive did he feel a huge weight make contact with his back and, at the same time, felt two slender arms take hold of him.
Apparently Cho had not followed him into the dive but, instead, guessed his exit direction and intercepted him. Harry's broom was jerked into a braking motion and the pair of them flew forward, right off their brooms, rolling spectacularly to a stop on the soft grass.
Harry immediately panicked at the sight of Cho's limp form, whose legs had ended up tangled with his. "Cho, are you alright?" he asked desperately. Harry looked up and scanned the empty pitch for anyone who could help.
Then he heard hysterical laughter and immediately felt aghast that someone could find this so funny, but could not, for the life of him, see anyone else around. Then, quite suddenly, his panic faded as he realized that the laughter was coming from the person beside him. "Cho?" he asked, flabbergasted.
To Harry's surprise Cho sat up and continued to laugh. "That was great. You should've heard yourself!" she sniggered, clapping loudly. Cho's laughter instantly infected him and, realizing that she was perfectly fine, felt a bit foolish for his overreaction.
Harry looked away, fearing he would actually blush out of embarrassment. "Don't be mad," Cho said playfully. "Mad," Harry said, "I'm not mad." Cho smiled at him and looked as though she were on the verge of a fit of giggles.
Harry lifted and pushed with his legs so that Cho overbalanced and fell over slowly. She rolled onto her back, laughing once more, and Harry got to his feet to regard the supine figure. Harry was forcibly reminded how very attractive he had always thought she was, unaware that he was holding his breath. He tore his gaze away from her, feeling a little rude for what he had been doing, and busied himself with scanning the ground for their abandoned broomsticks.
She brought her arms over her head and straightened her whole body, and Harry couldn't help but regard her again. Cho made a moaning sound, stretching as though she were thoroughly enjoying herself. She relaxed and stared up at the sky, taking in another deep, calming breath.
"Sorry if I was rough," she said, almost mockingly. "Oh, you call that rough?" he returned her mocking tone, but with a hint of embarrassment. With a wry smile on her face she look into Harry's emerald green eyes and reached out her hands to him, her fingers wiggling.
He only discovered the extent of her deception after she had happily accepted his helpful hands, because she suddenly pulled him down. Instantly he thought he was going to land unpleasantly on her, but then felt her feet push into his belly, sending him diving over her and onto his back.
He looked up at Cho, who had nimbly sprang to her feet, and saw the delight on her face as she quickly backed away, biting her lower lip playfully. He got quickly to his feet and Cho's eyes widened. She turned and bolted from him, laughing wildly, and Harry instantly gave chase.
Cho ran like a snitch flew, changing directions often, seemingly at random. Harry was still able to follow her; he was a seeker after all, and he caught up to her rather quickly because of his longer strides. Cho let out a gasp of shock when she looked back to find him just feet away from her.
But Harry hadn't noticed the broomstick she'd been heading towards or he would have tried to stop her from getting to it. Instead he saw Cho go into a rough cartwheel to a backward-handspring, and he had to slow down in order to avoid her feet when they flew up from the ground.
She came out of her flip and stopped to face him holding the broom out in front of her like a weapon. Harry was so amazed to see the broomstick in her hands that he instantly froze, his eyes traveling from the broom, to her defensive posture, and finally to her face.
Harry saw a daring in her eyes and, realizing that he knew very little about this playful side of her, decided to stay perfectly still. She gave him a quick smile and then twirled the broomstick threateningly and impressively, making Harry take a precautionary step backward.
It was a very brief display of prowess, which concluded with Cho mounting the broom in sidesaddle fashion and kicking off the ground, all in a single motion. She was instantly out of reach and all Harry could do was stare at her, mouth hanging slightly open.
He watched her with renewed interest. Why hadn't he seen this side of her before, and had it always been there, just waiting to come out? How many others have seen this reckless and carefree side of Cho Chang?
"Hey, what are you doing here? We've got the pitch booked for tryouts all morning." "Sorry," Harry apologized to the two Ravenclaw boys whose names he did not know, "I was just trying to get some flying in before breakfast. I'll be on my way now."
They said nothing in reply, but cast him an unfriendly look before heading to the center of the pitch with the quidditch chest between them. A second later Cho landed next to him as he gathered up his broomstick, and he was a bit disappointed to see that the playful smile had gone from her face, to be replaced by an anxious, almost sad expression.
Harry looked into her eyes, not entirely sure what she was thinking, but hopeful he could leave her on a happy note. "Good luck," he finally said, and Cho's expression grew soft, even warm. "Thank you," she answered with a small grin.
Harry didn't really want to leave; he wanted to stay and root for her, but he knew it was out of the question. "Let me know how it turns out," he asked suddenly, after Cho had turned to leave. "Okay," she answered, looking back at him, "Next time I see you, then."
Harry left the pitch a bit subdued. He was thinking about the girl he had just had a wonderful time with, the one he'd been infatuated with ever since his third year. The same girl he had resented all summer holiday after their disastrous attempt at a relationship.
Now however, he had a strange desire to comfort her. But something inside him, his heart perhaps, seemed to be holding a grudge and his thoughts wondered back to the things that had gone wrong between them.
True she was a bit confusing, but then again, Tonks had made it all sound so logical. After that particularly long conversation, Harry hadn't even thought about Cho until he had seen her again, and that had been a pleasant experience.
It also looked as though Cho had done a bit of growing up. She seemed not to care for trifles like popularity and gossip anymore. It wasn't a secret that she'd been avoiding most of the giggling girls that use to hang around her, and now she was usually to be seen by herself or in counsel with professors Dumbledore and Flitwick. Indeed, Cho hadn't even dolled herself up for the Gryffindor ball and, according to her, only came because Gabrielle really wanted to be there.
And then there was her friendship with little Gabrielle. Cho was in her seventh and final year at Hogwarts, which is traditionally the hardest time in a student's career, but still befriended someone who, because of her innocence and unfamiliarity, was sure to need a lot of attention.
Come to think of it, Cho was probably giving Gabrielle English lessons in her spare time. The little girl already spoke better English than her older sister, and although her accent was still noticeable, it was positively cute and even a bit hypnotic.
Harry was just about halfway to the castle when he caught sight of a group of Ravenclaws, a few of whom would obviously be participating in today's tryouts as some of them had their broomsticks shouldered.
He stopped to regard the hopefuls who would, of course, be competing for Cho's rightful spot. It was then that he realized the weight on his shoulders from the broomstick he had accidentally left the pitch with. He turn around, half-thinking he could just return it, when he heard someone call his name.
Marietta Edgecombe had detached herself from the group of Ravenclaw students and now approached him at a brisk pace. "Hi Marietta," he said when she was almost to him. She smiled very briefly and linked her arm in one of his and led him back in the direction he'd just come.
"I assume by that broom you're carrying, that you've just come from the pitch. Did you see Cho there?" She seemed somewhat giddy, which made Harry immediately feel defensive. "Yeah, she's practicing," he said.
Harry stopped to face her. It was hard to read her expression, but it was obvious she was feeling smug about something. She looked over at the group of Ravenclaws she had been with and Harry noticed that quite a few of them wore sour looks. He and Marietta stood in silence until they passed.
"That's a cheerful lot," Harry said sardonically, looking after them. Marietta grinned. "They're already feeling sore about losing to Cho. They know she's the best one out of all of them. Ah, that's not your broom, is it?" Marietta added.
"Oh, no," he said, offering it to her. "I forgot I was holding it when I left." Marietta smiled. "What," he asked, feeling defensive again. She shrugged, still smiling, and took the broom. "What do you think of her," she asked, and Harry flushed.
"I think she's great. I mean, what's not to like?" Marietta laughed. "I was talking about her chances." "Oh, ah... so was I," Harry said quickly, "What's not to like about her chances?" He smiled, rather weakly. "Good, because she hasn't been interested in flying again until now, and I thought she might be a little rusty."
This was shocking news to Harry. "Cho hasn't been interested in flying," he said doubtfully, "Since when?" Marietta sighed. "Since the quidditch final last term." Harry remembered Ron saying that Cho had chucked her broom.
"But I thought... that was her Comet she was using," he said puzzled, but Marietta got his meaning. "I fetched it for her, just in case she still wanted it. I hope she gets her job back, I mean, with the scout coming to Hogwarts."
Another shock. "Scout," Harry said, amazed. "Yes, that's right. There's a scout coming to watch one of our matches. My mum heard something about it from someone at work, and she was telling my dad all about it when I overheard."
Marietta looked at the pitch; the goals just visible from where they stood. "No matter how distracted she was about," she paused, her eyes catching his, "...things." He saw a little resentment on her face before she returned her attention to the pitch. "She's always wanted to play for the Tornadoes."
Then Marietta fixed him with a contemptuous look. "I hope you wished her luck," she began, "It would have been the least you could've—" but Harry cut her off quickly. "Of course I did. I would've stayed and..." he started to say, but he stopped himself.
Marietta looked surprised for a moment, before her expression turned serious, almost grave. "She's been through a lot. She's better now, sure, but I still feel a bit... sorry for her." Harry didn't answer right away; he was deep in thought. The strong desire to comfort Cho had returned, and he had to shake his head clear. "I'll see you around," he finally said to Marietta.
Harry sat quietly at the breakfast table surrounded by his one-time committee members as their all-eating-together had turned into something of a habit. At present however, Harry did not feel the camaraderie with them, partially because of the jokes, partly due to the fact that he was avoiding looking in Parvati's direction, but mainly because his mind was still on Cho.
But the more he thought about it, the more it just confused him. Cho seemed very normal whenever she had talked to him... happier if nothing else. But then he thought that, compared to the state she was in last year, any improvement would have been a dramatic one.
When the others finished their breakfast, they all agreed to enjoy the rest of the sunlit morning outside by the lake, catching up on homework, as well as gossip from the ball. Harry however, felt like being alone and continued to eat, agreeing to meet them after he was finished.
A few minutes later Harry left the Great hall and turned, not to the oak front doors, but to the marble staircase, returning to the common room which, by now, was devoid of any harassment and promised to be relaxingly quiet. Harry sprawled himself onto a sofa and gazed thoughtlessly into the cold, empty fireplace.
About a half-hour before noon, Harry heard more than one person climb through the portrait hole and was just about to look up to see who it was when one of them spoke. "I bet he's having a lie-in." Ginny's voice sounded grumpy. Harry stayed very still and listened, hidden from view where he laid.
"He already had a lie-in this morning," Ron voice said defensively. "Then he just didn't want to hang out with us, I suppose," Ginny retorted. "Course he did," Ron began, "he's probably just..." but Ron seemed lost for words.
"Maybe his scar is hurting again," supplied Hermione's voice, "and he went to see Professor Dumbledore, or Madame Pomfrey. Haven't you noticed that Harry's been, well... reclusive, lately I mean. I know he was busy with the ball and—"
Ginny interrupted, "We've all been busy with the ball." "Yes, yes I know," said Hermione, "but Harry's been alienating himself from us since we got back, and I think he just needs some time to think, and we should give that to him. We're still his best friends. I know he thinks so."
"How do you know that?" asked Ron, a bit harshly. "Oh, come on Ron. Harry's nothing if not loyal." Harry heard a little bite in the tone she used, as though she said it in spite of herself, and there was an awkward silence.
"We'd better get ready for the quidditch meeting," said Ginny at last. "Right," Ron agreed, a little excited. He heard them walk off, their footsteps echoing in the otherwise empty staircases. A few minutes later, Harry rose from the sofa and bounded upstairs.
"What happened, mate?" Ron asked after Harry entered their room. "I went looking for Dumbledore," Harry began, and on an impulse, added, "but I ran into Marietta. She says there might be some visitors during quidditch season, whatever that means."
"Okay," Ron said slowly. Harry opened his trunk and extracted his top-of-the-line Firebolt racing broom, and as usual Ron stared in amazement. "You know, I can never get tired of seeing that thing." Harry noticed the tentativeness in Ron's voice again, as though hoping he wouldn't remind him of Sirius, so he answered with a grin.
As he changed his clothes, Harry noticed Ron waiting for him and realized that he was expecting him to walk down to the pitch with him and probably Ginny too. "Why do you have grass stains on your clothes already?" Ron asked suddenly.
"Oh, because I fell," Harry answered casually. Ron gave him a quizzically look. "When my scar hurt again, I mean." This seemed to satisfy Ron's curiosity because he grimaced in sympathy, but Harry still had to think of an excuse that would let him leave Gryffindor tower alone.
"I have to go down to the hospital wing," Harry said in the middle of pulling on his sweater. "I recon I need a calming draft before I get on a broomstick." "Oh, okay. I'll tell the others you'll be a little late, then."
"Thanks," he said to Ron, but more so to Hermione for thinking up his excuse for him. "But you guys should start without me. I don't know how long I'll be with Madame Pomfrey." Ron nodded. "See you later, then," he called as he left.
Harry reached the lake around twelve o'clock and was just wondering how he would go about looking for Hermione, when a familiar beach tree caught his eye. And there was Hermione, peeking out from behind its trunk, looking anxious.
When Harry reached her she immediately headed towards a denser patch of trees and bushes, presumably for more privacy. Harry followed her, apprehensively awaiting that feeling of desire to return, as it had done so the past couple of times he and Hermione had been alone together. Instead he noticed that the scent he now associated with her had gone, and on closer inspection, realized she had changed her clothes as well.
When they reached a cramped clearing just at the edge of the lake, Hermione turned to him. "So talk," she half-demanded. Harry felt taken aback, and cleared his throat uncomfortably. He thought she would exercise some preamble that would allow him a moment to prepare, but now he realized she was determined to hear whatever it was she thought he had to say.
Harry put on an affronted look, which worked because Hermione was immediately embarrassed. "I didn't mean it to come out like that," she apologized, and Harry grinned at her, knowing it would relax them both.
"You're not wearing that perfume, are you?" he asked casually; he was half-thinking out loud. Hermione suddenly looked uncomfortable. "I forgot to put it on," she said lamely. Then she slowly looked into his eyes. "Do you like it?" she asked tentatively.
Harry paused just before he could admit it, interrupted by an image of Ron and Hermione holding hands, and immediately felt jealous. She's probably wearing it because it was Ron who gave it to her, said a voice in his head, and it wouldn't really matter what you thought.
Harry looked up at her. "It doesn't matter what I think, I mean, if you really like it." Hermione looked a bit hurt. "I'd like to know," she answered, which told Harry quite plainly, that she knew what he was thinking.
He had a strong feeling that, if he told her he didn't like it, she would probably stop wearing it. But then where would things go from there? He supposed they would stop thinking about Ron whenever they were alone. But they could hardly hide this from him, and he would definitely be very upset with the pair of them. Still, Harry felt the need to hear it from her.
"What if I told you that I don't fancy when you wear it?" he asked, looking into her eyes, totally unaware that he was now holding his breath. "I suppose I really wouldn't want to wear it then. Not if you don't like it." Harry's urge to hold her returned, but just as quickly, so did the feeling of guilt.
"Would that make you feel better?" Hermione asked, and quite suddenly, Harry thought of Cho and how he had wanted nothing more than to make her feel better. He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head, and Hermione looked confused.
"I don't know," he admitted. He began to say, "How would Ron take it," but then he remembered chasing after Cho that morning and instead said, "How would Cho—Ron I mean... how would he take it?" Hermione gasped and her eyes took on a vivid shimmer. "You're..." she choked, "...you're right, of course."
It was then that Harry realized that this was as far as anything could go between them now. He gave Hermione a helpless sort of look, which she returned with a weak smile. After a moment however, Hermione recovered her composure and, to Harry's slight surprise after his subtle rejection, reached out and took his hand affectionately.
"Harry," she said with an optimistic grin, "I'm here for you, whenever you need someone to talk too. You know that don't you?" Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing, but was so moved by her sentiment that, without a second thought or the slightest hesitation, he pulled her into such an embrace that she was briefly lifted off the ground.
She laughed and gave him a warm smile as he released her. Harry saw that her eyes looked tearful again, but he automatically assumed that that was natural. It was then that he decided to tell her what had happened.
"Sit down," he said, taking a seat on the ground in front of her. Hermione sat down directly in front of him and rubbed her eyes momentarily before fixing him with an intent gaze.
On an impulse Harry took hold of her hands and stared down at them as he prepared himself for what he was about to say. Holding her hands made it seem easier somehow. Hermione gave a gently squeez and he felt her eagerness.
Harry took a deep, calming breath and then looked right at her. "I kissed Parvati," he said quickly; he had to force it to come out. Hermione's reaction was pretty much as he expected. Her eyes widened, then blinked and, apparently without realizing it, she tightened her grip on his hands.
"You kissed her?" she asked, amazed. "Well, it was really the other way around," he said desperately, "I mean, I didn't start it." Hermione grinned. "No, I suppose you never do, do you?" "No, I guess not," Harry admitted, a bit sourly, "but so what? It's not like I'm scared or anything. I just haven't tried, that's all."
"I know," Hermione said, looking distant, and Harry was relieved to hear that her answer carried not even the slightest hint of sarcasm in it. "Another one of those ideas you, just-went-along-with, I suppose," she repeated his words from the stairwell this morning, but before he could retort, Hermione continued. "Well, did you enjoy it?"
"No, absolutely not," he answered. Hermione raised an eyebrow and fixed him with a penetrating stare not unlike one of Professor Dumbledor's. "Well, maybe a little—but I fancied Cho's a lot more." Hermione laughed.
"What," he asked defensively. "Was she that bad, or was Cho that good?" Hermione grinned, and Harry felt his face turn red. "Yes, I mean no, not bad... just different." "And you know which one you liked better," Hermione suggested. Harry nodded.
"And I know we're past that now—me and Cho, but I don't like Parvati that way." Hermione shrugged, "Well that's okay, just act like nothing happened." "But what if it gets out or," Harry paused, a chill running down his spine, "what if she thinks I fancy her?"
"Who, Cho?" "No, Parvati." "You fancy Parvati?" "No, I fancy Cho, no one, I mean—uhhhhhhg." Harry was starting to get sick of Hermione's grinning now, but the next thing she said drove the anger from him.
"Don't worry about Parvati," she smirked at him, "she won't be mentioning it." "How do you," Harry began, but Hermione quickly put a hand to his mouth and shook her head. "Trust me, this won't get out. I can make sure of that." Harry's anxiety ease considerably at the thought that Hermione was often right about these things—most thinks actually.
"Now," she said very businesslike, "what about Cho." "What about her?" Harry mused. Hermione clicked her tongue and gave him a sideways look. "We're just friends now," Harry said honestly. "But you've fancied her for ages," Hermione reasoned. "Well," Harry sighed, "I've changed a bit. Maybe I've done some growing up."
"Yes, you have," she told him wistfully, "but then, so have a lot of us." It was as though a light had gone on in Harry's head. "You mean Cho, don't you?" Hermione stood up, still holding onto one of his hands, and helped him to his feet. "Well, yes, I do."