Chapter 6: Friends No More
When Harry entered the Great Hall for dinner that evening, he immediately noticed Marietta and Dean in conversation, but by the time he reached them, Cho's friend had already started off toward the Ravenclaw table. "What did she want," Harry asked Dean when he reached him, "was she looking for me?" Dean shook his head. "No... actually, she was looking for Ginny."
"And where were you," Ginny asked heatedly the moment she took a seat across from Harry, and he was instantly reminded of Mrs. Weasley. He automatically recalled something Fred and George had said about their mother on one occasion in which Mrs. Weasley berated Mundungas Fletcher for having brought stolen merchandise to the Order's secret headquarters. "You've got to head her off early, otherwise she builds up a head of steam..."
Harry hitched a scowl onto his face and interrupted the little Weasley when she opened her mouth to continue. "Will you give it a rest Ginny. I needed to clear a few things up and I lost track of time." He glared at her, and she suddenly looked put out.
After a moment, she cleared her throat uncomfortably and spoke in a voice filled with forced calm, "We picked a new captain." "Oh," asked Harry, sounding mildly interested, "Who?" "Ron," she said simply. Her answer didn't really surprise him but judging by the look on her face Ginny was obviously expecting him to react differently. "You probably would have been made captain," she continued, "if you showed up, I mean. Katie and I didn't want the job, but..." Ginny made a helpless gesture with her hands.
Harry thought for a moment and a not-so-distant memory came to mind. He and Ron were in their first year and standing in front of the huge Mirror of Erised. He remembered what Ron told him he had seen in the mirror; his best friend's deepest, most desperate desire. That he, Ron, was Gryffindor's quidditch captain, and Hogwarts' Head Boy.
"Excellent," Harry said finally. Ginny's eyebrows shot up in obvious surprise and she gave him a sideways look. "Ron's better at tactics and scouting than I am," Harry began, "and I don't fancy the load that comes with being captain, I mean, I remember how it was for Oliver..."
"Really Harry?" Ginny asked, "Because Ron was worried you'd be crossed with him. He even said that we should postpone picking a captain until everyone was there." Harry looked up and down the Gryffindor table, and then back at Ginny. "Where's Ron and Hermione." Ginny grinned, and Harry suddenly felt a little jealous.
"Ron went looking for Hermione after the meeting," she admitted, "He wanted to tell her the good news, I suppose." Harry let it drop and sat down feeling somewhat deflated. In spite of this feeling however, Harry was genuinely happy for his best friend, just as he had been when Ron had been made a prefect over him.
"Well done mate," Harry told Ron, when he and Hermione turned up at dinner a few minutes later. "Thanks," Ron said, taking a seat next to him. "You should have been there, mate. You could have been captain, I mean." Harry shook his head. "It was meant to be this way. You'll make a better captain than I ever would have." Ron looked choked up and, instead of speaking, merely grinned.
Harry saw Ron steal a quick glance from Hermione, who was looking pleased about something, and Harry concluded that Hermione must have spent the whole of their conversation convincing Ron that he, Harry, would be alright with his appointment.
"So," Hermione said, loading food onto her plate, "what happened at tryouts?" Immediately Ron and Ginny made disgruntled sounds and launched into a volley of complaints about the lack of talent that turned out. Harry looked at Hermione, who smiled at him. Harry grinned back, suddenly realizing that the only reason Hermione had asked about tryouts was for this very reaction.
After dinner, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny headed off to yet another prefect's meeting, leaving Harry in a lonesome melancholy. By the time he had reached the Gryffindor common room, a now familiar restlessness filled him and he was soon to be found in his dormitory room, kicking open his trunk.
Harry slipped his hand down his folded clothes, reaching straight for his invisibility cloak folded neatly at the very bottom. He made contact with a bundled up sock that held something solid within, and Harry knew exactly what it was. The next thing his hand ran into however; something like a small book or diary, made him paused to think of what it could be.
Harry grabbed hold of the item and extracted it from the rest of his possessions. He froze in shock when he realized what he was holding in his hand. It was the two-way mirror that Sirius had given him last Christmas, which he had broken after his godfather's death. Harry had repaired it one day at Miss Figg's house, and he had long since forgotten about it. Now however, an emotional flood of guilt and sorrow consumed him and his hands trembled.
"Harry?" someone asked from just beyond the doorway. Instantly Harry's emotion transformed to rage and he turned to the dormitory door. "What!" he shouted and something odd happened. Harry felt a surge of something jump from his body and towards the frightened little first-year that had called his name.
A haze blurred the area at which the surge from Harry was directed, but just as oddly, the force, whatever it was, seemed to pass harmlessly over Mark Evans, doing little more than ruffle his hair; Mark's image had remained clear and focused.
At first all Harry realized was that he was yelling at someone who didn't deserve it at all, but then, as if watching something for the second or third time in slow-motion, he finally registered the phenomenon. "Sorry Mark, I didn't mean that," he pleaded, struggling to calm his brain from racing as he filed the memory somewhere at the back of his mind, "I've been having a really bad day, is all."
Mark blinked, still looking a little shaken. Harry tried smiling, which seemed to work because Mark relaxed slightly. "I want to lend you something," Harry said, a sudden idea coming to mind, "Come over here for a second." Harry turned back to his trunk and dug through his belongings. He deposited the little mirror back into his trunk as he pulled out his pocket sneakoscope.
"I didn't mean to," Mark began cautiously, but Harry interrupted him. "It's not you Mark, really." Harry revealed the small, spindle shaped device, which had expectedly stopped whirling the night Ron's pet rat, then known as Scabbers, had disappeared from this very dormitory.
"What is it, something magical?" Mark asked curiously. "Yep, it's a pocket sneakoscope. It spins and whistles if there's anyone you can't trust nearby. I imagine it can help keep your stuff from walking off. It's not a hundred percent reliable, but it's better than nothing. You can give it back when you like." "Thanks," Mark replied, gazing at the sneakoscope intently, "It balances on its point like a top when it spins, only it's not spinning."
Harry closed his trunk slowly, trying to preserve the calm mood. "Ah... Harry," Mark began timidly, and Harry had to give him another grin. "Colin and Dennis asked me to come get you—sorry." Harry shook his head. "No problem," he began, "and I'm really sorry about, earlier, okay?" Mark smiled. "Let's go see what they've got," Harry said excitedly, knowing exactly why the Creevey brothers wanted to see him.
Harry and Mark entered the forth-years' dorm room that Colin Creevey shared with his classmates. There were several lines of hanging negatives stretching along the tops of the four posters, and a long table besides the furthest bed, presumably Colin's, holding quite a few basins containing various, clear liquids. Hanging above the basin filled table were more lines where several photos hung in various stages of developing.
The Creeveys looked up from a set of photos they had been reviewing and gave them a broad smile. "We've got them right here Harry, just like we promised," Colin said. Harry walked up to him and his brother Dennis, who handed him the pictures with an expression of utmost pride, turning Harry's anticipation into excitement.
Although these were stationary, the way muggle photos were, there was something uniquely captivating about each picture that, however ordinary it might have looked, still held Harry's gaze for a few seconds at a time and he struggled with himself to get through the lot.
Each picture brought back the same feeling he had had that night; of how things were suppose to be. He decided that, if he had had to wait a whole week to see these pictures, it would have been well worth it.
"Thanks Mark," Colin said, holding out a small photo to the young Gryffindor, and Harry tore his gaze away from the ones he had been admiring. "Is that what I think it is," Mark asked excitedly, taking the photo with a slightly trembling hand. Harry walked up behind Mark and looked at the photo over his shoulder.
"Harry," Mark called, turning around and almost colliding with him. "Oh. Sorry. What do you think?" the boy said, holding out the photo, his hand still a bit shaky. Smiling, Harry accepted the photo and examined it more closely. "You two look good, only, you look a bit nervous." "I was," Mark confessed, "I suppose I was still a bit, ah... shocked."
Harry continued to stare at the photo, particularly at Gabrielle, and then he remembered something she told him. "She wanted me to tell you that she enjoyed herself, and that she hopes she sees you again." Mark goggled at him.
"Thank you for keeping her company, Mark," said Harry. "You don't have to thank me, Harry. I enjoyed myself too," said Mark. Harry raised an eyebrow, and Mark flushed. "In a gentleman kind of way, I mean," he assured him.
Harry laughed and, suddenly noticing another photo beneath the one of Mark and Gabrielle, thumbed the top one to his free hand. Harry felt his heart stop momentarily when he saw the soft, beautiful smiles of both Gabrielle Delacour and Cho Chang.
The picture showed Gabrielle seated on a plush chair with Cho standing behind, her hands resting on the young girl's shoulders, and Harry remembered Madam Maxine holding Gabrielle's older sister Fleur in that same protective way.
The longing to comfort Cho returned with renewed vigor and it was a moment before Harry realized the others in the room watching him stare at her image. "You can have that one if you like," Colin said to Harry, "It's easy enough to make them another one." Harry thought for a moment, "Yeah, thanks," he said absentmindedly, his thoughts returning to Cho, "I think I will hang onto this one."
The next thing Harry knew, he was back in front of his open trunk, teetering between hiding the little photo and continuing to gaze at the image of Cho and Gabrielle. Harry felt something brush his legs and, looking down, saw the familiar bandy-legged, ginger form of Crookshanks.
"I know, I know," he said to the cat, "I must be mental." Crookshanks looked up at him and purred. Harry, feeling somewhat talkative now, knelt down and scratched the spot between the cat's ears. "I donno," he continued with a quick glance at the photo in his other hand, "only it's not looking very good for her right now, and I wanna be there, as a friend, I mean."
Crookshanks continued to purr, bolstering Harry's eagerness to talk, so he continued. "And she's always been nice to me," he added as an afterthought. Crookshanks however, stopped his purring and fixed him with an intent sort of stare.
"Before, I mean," he corrected himself defensively. "And besides, it's not like we still fancy each other, so there's nothing the matter with my being her friend, right?" he asked, looking at the photo again. Crookshanks began to lick himself.
"Do you think I'm a nutter?" he asked the cat, who merely continued its grooming. "Well I'm not!" he declared to no one in particular, "I know I'm not." Harry paused, deep in thought, and then his shoulders slowly slumped in defeat. "But here I am, talking to a cat," he sighed.
Crookshanks hopped up to the foot of his bed and started to purr once more. "You're right," he muttered, "I think I will go to bed now. "Oh, Hermione's gonna be a while," he told Crookshanks, "She's overseeing tonight's detention, with Ginny, I think."
That night Harry had a strange dream; that he was back in the DA room, gazing at his reflection in a huge mirror. "You said you would dance with me if I showed up," Cho's voice came from behind him, and Harry wheeled about only to find himself face to face with Hermione. "You did promise her, you know Harry," she began to say, "I think you'd better make it up to her. How about... your Firebolt?"
"I can't," Harry protested, "Sirius gave that to me." Hermione shrugged. "What are you on about anyway?" Harry complained, "You don't even like each other." Then he heard a muffled, distant-sounding voice. "Now... where is my little comet?" Then Harry felt slender hands close around his neck. They began squeezing gently and he struggled to breathe.
When Harry awoke in the pitch dark, early morning, he was shaking with nerves and gasping for breath. Automatically he found the divide in the curtains of his four-poster and, a moment later, was wrapped in the heavy cloak with a firm grip on his wand. He instantly felt warm and his shivering abated as his nerves slowly ebbed away. Harry realized the futility of remaining in bed and soon made his way restlessly to the common room.
When he emerged from the dormitory stairs, he immediately noticed Crookshanks, who was sitting in front of the cold and gloomy, unlit fireplace, staring into it. "You again," he laughed, walking over and taking a seat on the floor next to the cat.
"He's not going to pop his head through the fireplace, you know," Harry said numbly. Crookshanks mewed and sniffed at the cloak Harry had on, then jumped up onto his legs where he perched himself, purring.
"You miss him too, don't you?" he asked his early morning companion, feeling a wave of grief welling up inside and pulling the cloak tighter about him. Harry lit the fire with his wand and absentmindedly pet Crookshanks, whose somewhat morose purring reflected Harry's sullen mood. But his restlessness came over him once more and he lifted a rather hesitant Crookshanks from off his legs.
"See you later," he mumbled, heading for the stairs. Harry crept back to his room, changed his clothes quietly, and left again carrying his Firebolt. He made his way down the marble staircase with his excitement mounting when he suddenly noticed the amount of noise he was making. The pictures around him were beginning to stir now, and a few cast disapproving looks as he passed.
"Why are you flying down the steps," asked one of the portraits. "I'm not," Harry said smiling, "but there's a thought." He peered over the inside rail and counted about five more flights. Harry felt a rush of excitement and turned back to the portrait. "Thanks for the idea," he said, and then he imagined Cho's playful expression, egging him on.
Without so much as a pause to draw breath, Harry jumped over the rail and, freefalling, mounted his Firebolt, which surged with so much force and speed that the broom itself seemed thrilled. A second later Harry could no longer feel gravity pulling him earthward, but rather, felt the broom beneath him carry him forward, faster and faster.
Harry pulled out of his dive and decelerated to a stop, touching down right in front of the oak front doors where he paused to relive the last six seconds. With stifled excitement he quietly crept outside where the morning sun was just beginning to rise behind the tall evergreens to the east, throwing huge shadows along the dew touched school grounds.
Harry felt the chill of the morning air and, to keep warm, decided to jog to the pitch, rather than fly there, which had been his initial thought. As his strides carried him further and further away from the silent castle, a sudden thought occurred to him and he quickened his pace, fueled by a new sense of excitement after realizing that Cho Chang might already be there practicing.
Harry ran straight through the locker room and onto the pitch, looking up as he slowed to a stop, gasping for air. And then he saw her, not zooming through the air as he had expected, but on the ground, sitting cross-legged with her back towards him. Harry watched her for a moment while he caught his breath and, whether she had heard his sharp gasping or felt his eyes upon her, she looked over her shoulder to greet him with a smile.
Harry walked up behind her. "I suppose I did okay," she said when he reached her. Cho was, of course, referring to the Ravenclaw's tryouts yesterday. She had, after all, agreed to tell him how she did the next time they saw each other.
"So they haven't decided yet," he asked her. Cho shook her head, took a deep breath, and then leaned all the way back until she was flat on her back, looking up at the sky. "It's another nice day," she commented, shifting her gaze with each blink as she scanned the small cloud flotillas above.
Harry collapsed onto the ground next to her, also taking a deep breath, and landed with his head about two feet away from hers, though their bodies went in opposite directions so that the clouds Harry saw moving from left to right, from Cho's vantage point, moved right to left. They laid there for a few minutes in silence, enjoying the clouds and the birds going by, occasionally sharing a grin.
"That one looks like a raven," Cho said, pointing to one of the clouds, "The one over there." Harry, who had an upside-down view of the cloud, disagreed. "It looks more like a lion, to me." "You mustn't have your glasses on straight," Cho said, "because that looks nothing like a lion." "Maybe you need to get a pair," Harry countered, "because it looks more like a lion than a raven."
"Oh really," Cho said sardonically. Harry smiled, feeling smug about his retort when, without warning, Cho snatched his glasses from off his face. Harry made a swipe at them but he missed, and all he could see was her blurry form trying them on. "Geeez," she said, practically giggling, "You're blind!"
"It's not that bad," Harry protested. "No, it's not," Cho agreed, "But this explains some things." Then she mumbled to herself something that Harry heard nonetheless, "A lion, honestly." She stretched her hands out in front of her face and marveled at their featureless form. "Very funny," he replied, removing the glasses from off her face, "They just work better on me than they do on you."
Cho's soft smile came back into focus as he replaced his glasses. She rolled onto her elbows to stare at him. "They work well enough when you're after the snitch, I suppose," she said approvingly, but Harry had seen Cho's eyes flick downward very briefly and a slight frown touched her lips, as though she had just realized something disappointing, and Harry guessed it had something to do with the word 'snitch'.
A feeling resurfaced in Harry's memory and he suddenly had a disappointing vision of Cho having a tantrum; upset over her loss at last term's final. Cho however, merely smiled again. "Harry, you are the best flyer I've ever met. Do you know that?" she told him admiringly, "I would never be able to dive the way you do. If I could, I would've had a perfect score yesterday. Does it just come naturally to you?"
"I suppose," Harry answered vaguely. His mind was suddenly processing things very slowly because it was busy analyzing the differences between the Cho he knew last term, to the one he was getting to know now. Then he remembered the end of his last conversation with Hermione; the part about Cho having done some growing up.
"Yeah," Harry continued, his mind snapping back to the conversation, "I must get it from my dad." "Really," Cho asked, amazed, "he must have been very good then." Harry nodded, grinning reminiscently about the reputation his father carried as a flyer. But then his grin faltered, his reminiscing interrupted by a vision of Snape's worst memory.
Cho must have noticed his turn of expression because she quickly seized on a different subject. "That Firebolt must be pretty scary to fly," she said casually. But Harry's thoughts suddenly turned to his late godfather instead, and all he could do was look away. "Do you want to talk about it?" Cho asked tentatively, after a moment. "No," Harry answered bluntly.
Although Harry's melancholy thoughts continued to occupy his mind, he was still numbly aware of Cho, who was very still and silent. Her unspoken concern was something of a relief to Harry; she seemed to be giving him time to think, or at least, to recover.
Harry regained his composure and looked back at her. "Let's fly, Harry," she then said, jumping up gymnast-like and reaching out a hand to help him up while she scanned the ground. "Now... where is my little comet?"
The phrase stirred Harry's memory, and he recalled the odd dream he had awoken from just this morning. He remembered Hermione saying, "I think you'd better make it up to her. How about... your Firebolt?" And then it came to him.
Harry sat up, an idea forming in his mind. "Wait a minute... I know what to do," he breathed. "About what," asked Cho, dropping her outstretched hand. Harry paused. He had been thinking aloud and did not mean for Cho to hear.
"Are you alright, Harry," Cho asked anxiously. "Cho, I was just thinking," Harry began slowly, but then Cho grinned. "Did it hurt?" she asked with mock concern. Harry stopped, catching her meaning. "I'm just kidding," Cho said sweetly, "I couldn't resist, sorry." "I gotta remember that one," Harry laughed, and Cho beamed. "Anyway," Harry continued, "I'm sure you could dive better if I show you."
There was a moment of silence in which Cho gave him a sidelong look. "You're gonna teach me how to dive... like you," she said doubtfully. "Yeah, I think you're better than you realize. I'm sure you could do it."
Cho took on several emotions at once. First she appeared shocked, and then she blushed before finally, excitement came over her and she picked up her broom. Harry got to his feet and picked up his broom as well.
"Let's warm up then," he said, swinging his leg over his Firebolt. Cho mounted her Comet and kicked off so quickly that Harry almost thought she was trying to escape from him. And as if this thought had occurred to Cho as well, when Harry caught up to her a moment later, she laughed, "Blast, couldn't get away."
They flew around the pitch for a few minutes, swerving and rolling, ascending and descending, performing standard maneuvers effortlessly, until Cho slowed to a stop by one of the goals, actually dismounting and taking a seat some fifty feet off the ground, inside one of the great hoops. A familiar feeling returned to Harry at the sight of Cho pleasantly perched atop one of the goal posts, and he couldn't help but smile when he stopped in front of her.
"Well, it's good that your fear won't be getting in the way of your flying lesson," he told her, "but do you think that's altogether a good idea, I mean, you've been a bit reckless lately." Harry said the last part with an exaggerated shrug.
"You're one to talk," she answered tartly, and then she coughed something that sounded very much like the name, "Umbridge." "I guess you caught that from me then," he said sheepishly, and Cho smiled. "Oh, I thought you took care of my 'Harry-itis' last term, but obviously, I still have it."
Cho shifted her broomstick in her hands, gave him a quick wink, and slowly rolled backwards so that she fell out of the goalpost she had been perched on. At first, a thrill of fright shot down Harry's spine, but then he remembered his jump from the marble staircase this morning and quickly realized what she was doing. Cho mounted her broom with a fair amount of grace considering she was in the middle of freefall.
When she came out of her dive, Cho met Harry at one end of the pitch. Harry instructed her to follow him through a series of dives that he would make progressively more difficult. Cho did fairly well, although Harry noticed that she was a bit late entering the dives and would pull out a little sooner than he would have. He touched down onto the field and waved her to do the same.
"You're hesitating," he said casually, "and you're pulling out just a bit soon, I think." Cho raised an eyebrow and looked as though she were biting back a retort. "I thought I did alright," she said in an even tone, "I guess I was wrong."
Harry wanted to be honest with her but he wasn't quite sure how she would take it. Cho cleared her throat. "You are the expert Harry," she began with a sigh. "I'm hardly an expert," he replied a bit flattered, but Cho simply shrugged. "Well you're much better than I am so, I'm going to listen."
Cho mounted her Comet once more with a determined look on her face. Harry mounted his as well. "I'll be right next to you," he reassured her with an encouraging nod. Cho's expression softened and she blushed again. They kicked off and, in a rush of wind, flew up to about a hundred feet where they steadied themselves still.
"You can do this, alright," Harry told Cho as she stared at the ground below, "I know you can." Cho nodded, again looking quite determined. "Pull the back end of your broom up when you start your dive. And push it down when you come out of it," he reminded her. "Right," Cho said with a nod, "pull up the back at the start, push out at the end."
They dove at the same time and Harry saw Cho pull up the back end of her broom just as he had instructed her to. They sped earthward at a steep descent with their hair whipping fiercely. Pulling out however was a different story.
Again Cho started out of her dive earlier than Harry did, but he realized why immediately after he leveled off. At the speed they had been diving at, Cho barely missed the ground, her broomtail brushing the grass as she pulled up, and then she quickly landed and dismounted unsteadily.
Harry saw her drop her broom and half-collapse to her knees and he flew back to her with a mounting feeling of concern. Harry landed a few feet from Cho and ran to her side, although he did not dare touch her. She must have heard Harry's footsteps because she turned her face away, but not before he saw that she was struggling to control her sobbing, her eyes over-bright.
Cho took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "I'm sorry Harry," she said in a trembling voice no louder than a whisper, and then she cleared her throat. "I'm fine now." She wiped at her tears and turned to face him, giving him a helpless sort of smile. "I saw what happened," Harry said, "It was your boom, not you."
"I thought I was going to crash," she said dully and then she closed her eyes again, as though she were reliving it. Harry knew instantly that he had pushed her too far. Cho had known her broom quite well and was pulling out sooner than he would have because she knew she had too. Harry felt thoroughly guilty for her present state now and could not think of what to say, although he did have an idea of what he should do.
Cho stood up and turned around again to look at her discarded broom, but before she could take a step towards it, Harry dropped his Firebolt and wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her in. She did not resist, although she was a bit tense at first, and Harry couldn't imagine who was more shocked at this gesture; him or Cho.
"I was wrong to push you like that," he apologized, "I didn't think about your Comet." Harry nuzzled his chin between Cho's braids. "Stupid broom," she muttered, and Harry tightened his hold. Cho's hand found his arm and gently took hold of it. "I'm sorry I couldn't do it," she said after a moment. "No," Harry said firmly, "It wasn't you, Cho. It was that broom."
Harry slowly removed his arms from around Cho and couldn't help but notice how nice it felt when her hand lingered on his arm. "Let's try it again," he said, picking up his Firebolt. Cho turned to face him. "I don't think I can," she began, but Harry interrupted her by holding out his broom, "You can... with this."
Cho stared at the outstretched Firebolt, shocked, and slowly shook her head. "I can't, what if—" she started to say, but Harry had made up his mind. "It's alright," he continued, pressing the Firebolt into her hands with an encouraging grin, "I know you can do it. I trust you." When he walked past her and picked up her Comet, she looked up at him as though she were caught between shock and excitement.
"Go on, then," Harry said smiling, "Get the feel of it before we try again." Cho looked down at the Firebolt in numb disbelief and carefully mounted it, giving Harry one last look. Harry simply nodded, grinning, and kicked off the ground, and by the time he looked back down to where Cho had been, he felt a rush of wind as she zoomed past him.
Cho's courage had apparently returned and Harry guessed that it was fueled by the thrill that only riding a Firebolt can give. He continued to watch her, feeling quite impressed and remembering how he first felt on that very same broom. He also noticed how gracefully she moved and how natural she looked flying; even her shiny braids fluttered with an eye catching motion, like something swimming through the water.
Harry also realized that his first experience on the Firebolt must now pale in comparison to Cho's, as he had owned a Nimbus 2000, which was far better than Cho's Comet 260. The difference in the improved performance was evident in the way Cho handled it. After only a couple of minutes, Cho was already pushing the broom almost as hard as Harry usually did during a match.
When Cho came to a stop to face him she was glowing and smiling broadly. "Oh Harry," she said, still excited, "this broom is incredible! I really had no idea." Harry grinned back. "Shall we carry on, then?" he asked, suspecting her answer. Cho beamed and nodded, and Harry knew he no longer had to fly beside her.
"I'll watch from here," he said, and with that gave her a few last-minute tips before shooing her off. And he was right; Cho could do it. She did as Harry had instructed, dive after spectacular dive. If he were to give her a grade, he thought, he would have to give her an 'outstanding'. Harry was just about to wave her back after her last dive, when he noticed something odd.
Cho had switched into a side-saddle position before one of her dives so casually that Harry, who hadn't taken his eyes off her, didn't even notice when she had done so. At first Harry felt on edge, never having ridden this way before, but noticed that Cho looked more relaxed in this position, more comfortable.
"How was that?" Cho asked, biting the corner of her lower lip with forced calm. "It was no surprise to me," he shrugged, "I knew you could do it." Cho blushed and looked away in the direction of the castle. "It's almost time for breakfast," she said, still attempting to hide her face.
Harry hadn't realized the time until Cho mentioned breakfast and immediately felt hungry. "You don't happen to have any food with you, do you?" Cho joked. Harry shook his head. "We'd better head back then, I suppose," he said dully. They headed down and Harry was just about to land when Cho suddenly pulled up. "One last dive," she called over her shoulder as she repositioned herself into a straddling posture.
Harry landed and looked up at Cho, who was climbing so high that she was barely discernable now. Harry, hungry and weak from his early start, dumped himself down onto the grass where he sat watching Cho. When the tiny figure of Cho reached a towering height hundreds of feet up, she paused, and Harry wondered if she was making sure that he was watching.
Harry waved one arm above his head, back and forth in great arcs and Cho began her dive. She dove straight down in a rush of speed that turned her into a mere blur. Harry had an odd feeling that he had seen this same dive before. And suddenly, he imagined a huge black dragon with a spiked tail; a horntail.
Harry hadn't seen this dive before, he had done it. Cho pulled up and skimmed the grass with one outstretched hand and then rolled on the broomstick all the way around, before flying back and touching down next to Harry
"I've always wanted to do that," she said breathlessly, "ever since I saw you do it." Harry smiled and rose from his resting place. Cho handed back his Firebolt to him with her eyes downcast, as though gathering her courage. "Harry," she said in a voice oozing with nerves, "I really want to thank you for all this help."
"Well, you're an excellent flyer," Harry said, handing Cho her Comet, "but you needed to really push your broom, and this Comet was just holding you back." Cho looked affectionately at her broom. "It's been pretty good to me," she grinned. "But you understand why you had to use my broom now?" Harry asked.
"I do," she agreed, looking into his eyes. "I just didn't want anything to happen, to your broom, I mean. I know you don't let anyone have a go on it." Harry felt slightly embarrassed. He knew he'd been extra protective with his Firebolt ever since Sirius' death, until now.
"I know it must sound a little—" he began to say, but Cho interrupted him. "Oh no," she said sternly, "I'd feel the same way. All the times my brother wanted to wear my Tornadoes badge, but I wouldn't let him. It's the only thing I have left from my grandfather, so..."
Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering why Cho was telling him this and how it related to his Firebolt. "Your godfather, he gave you that broom, right?" she asked, nodding at the Firebolt. "How did you know that?" Harry asked, suddenly overcome by a wave of shock and apprehension. "Hermione Granger told me."
Harry felt a surge of anger. As far as he was concerned, the subject of his late godfather Sirius was off limits to anyone. Regardless of what was said between Hermione and Cho, Harry suddenly felt betrayed by the pair of them for even having had the conversation. His mind started racing and his grip on his broom clenched into fists.
"Harry, are you alright?" Cho asked nervously, looking as though she wanted to come closer but thought better of it. Before Harry knew it he was shouting. "Been having a good gossip about me, have you," he thundered. Cho scowled but looked down. "No, we haven't, Hermione was—" "Wasn't minding her own business," he cut in, "and neither were you."
Harry advanced on Cho, his temper at its limit. "What is it you wanna know so bad that you have to go off behind my back to find out," he shouted, stopping with his face an inch away from hers. Cho did not move from her spot, although she half flinched with her eyes shut tight and had an expression that looked as though she had just been slapped, or was at least expecting to be.
"It's not like that," she objected, but Harry continued to yell. "You don't know what it's like—none of you do!" Cho looked back at him with tears standing in her eyes. "I didn't—" she began to say, but Harry did not hear anything after that.
His thoughts on Sirius' death, as well as the prophesy came bubbling to the surface. "No one knows what I have to do," Harry barked, "and no one can understand either, especially not you. The truth would just scare you off."
A hundred hateful things to say came to mind but Harry could not lock onto one and instead, mounted his Firebolt and kicked off hard. Harry's anger on the ground quickly turned into recklessness in the air and before he knew it he had flown right into the Forbidden Forest and was now dodging trees and branches at an alarming speed, half hoping he would just crash into something and be done with it.
Harry spent much of the day meandering through the Forbidden Forest, skipping breakfast, lunch, and even dinner. His appetite gave way to vein speculation as to why Hermione would do such a thing. Needless to say by the time Harry finally returned to the Gryffindor common room, his temper had swollen to its bursting point, and he sought out Hermione with vindictive fury.
He found her curled up in a chair by the fireplace looking at something in her hands. Harry's anger took over and he stormed right up to her so that she barely had time to stand up when she noticed him coming. "You!" he said in a dangerous whisper, tossing his Firebolt onto the sofa. "What's the matter," Hermione said alarmed, hiding her hands behind her back.
"You had no right telling her anything," he huffed, struggling to keep calm. Hermione's eyes widened. "Let me explain Harry, please," she begged. "What's to explain," Harry yelled, "I don't go talking about your business with anybody I feel like!" "I only did that," Hermione began, tears welling in her eyes, "because I thought—" "Thought you could do or say what you like to whoever you want," Harry cut in viciously.
"It's not like that," Hermione pleaded, almost sobbing, but Harry would not listen. "Don't you talk about me again Hermione," he screamed, "and I don't ever want to talk to you—I don't ever want to see you... you..." But whatever Hermione was Harry never said because she fled the room howling, half blinded by tears.
Harry watched her run off with a feeling of satisfaction. "She deserved it," he muttered. He turned around, intending to take a seat and unload his tired and hungry body onto the sofa with his Firebolt, when he noticed something on the floor. Picking up the photo he realized that Hermione must have dropped it when she ran off because he suddenly found himself staring at a photo of the pair of them dancing together.
Harry had been so involved swinging with Hermione at the Gryffindor ball that he hadn't noticed when Colin had snapped this picture, but he suddenly remembered the feeling he was having at the time. He had twirled Hermione into him so that his arms wrapped around her and he remembered enjoying every step of it. They looked as though they were having the time of their lives.
He shook his head clear, still feeling angry, but now he felt a bit sorry as well. Harry heard the portrait hole close. "Harry," came Ginny's tentative voice from behind him, "why was Hermione crying?" Harry turned around, pocketing the photo. "She had no right," he said, his anger pushing any sorrow for Hermione aside. "You two had a row? What did you say to her?" she asked. "Nothing she didn't deserve," Harry said evenly.
"Why," Ginny pressed on, "what did she do?" Harry felt his temper flaring again and had to calm himself. "She went and told Cho about Sirius, and who knows what else." "Oh Harry," Ginny said, taking a seat, "I'm sure she only told Cho that stuff because she thought it would help her understand you better." "What! Why would Cho need to understand me better?" he demanded.
Ginny sighed. "Because you and Cho, uh... have unfinished business," she said hesitantly. Harry laughed, "Is that what Hermione told you?" "No, that's what I told her," she admitted. Harry's eyes widened.
"You?" he gasped. Ginny nodded. "Why would you tell her something like that?" Harry asked, flabbergasted. "Because it's true," she said heatedly, standing up. "No, it's not," Harry argued, also rising. "Me and Cho are just friends now." Ginny walked up to him defiantly.
"Yes it is. You two took it in turns to look at each other all night at that quidditch match—and don't act like you weren't pleased at the end because I saw you, both of you!" Harry's anger abated, turning suddenly into apprehension. A small part of him wanted to accept what Ginny was saying, but the rest of him knew Cho did not feel this way about him; not anymore.
"And I suppose you talk to Cho then," he said mockingly, "told you she still fancies me, did she." "No. As a matter of fact, she didn't." Harry made a derisive noise. "She's being thick about it just like you," Ginny continued, "or so Marietta says." "Marietta! What's she got to do with this," he demanded.
Ginny thought for a moment. "I wondered that too; why she was telling me all this stuff, I mean, but she says she owed you or something. She said she's changed her mind about you, whatever that means. Anyway, she knows Cho still thinks about you all the time, but she's just scared to admit it."
Harry thought of Cho's reckless side. "Believe me, Cho's not scared," he said. "Superstitious then," Ginny reasoned, "I suppose she thinks that, if she admits it, something or someone will just mess it all up; like darling Hermione." Harry looked away feeling as though he had just been stupefied. The next thing Ginny said however brought Harry's attention crashing back.
"Oh, and she thinks you're through with her anyway, so..." Harry looked back at her. "Through with her?" he said aghast, "I've been nothing but nice to her!" "You git," Ginny said impatiently, "Cho wouldn't dance with anyone at our ball, and she loves to dance, but she came anyway—probably just wanted to see you. But you, you danced with Hermione and Parvati, and what's her name's sister, and you didn't so much as ask Cho. Well, what's she suppose to think?"
"Donno," Harry fired back, a bit offended, "But I do know one thing. You're mental." Ginny laughed sarcastically, "Am I? Well, at least I'm not scared to admit when I still fancy someone." "Yeah," Harry said mockingly, "I heard about you and Michael Corner. Tell me, did he get tired of snogging Cho?" "No," she replied after a distracted moment, "he never got the chance." Far from upsetting her, this seemed to make Ginny revisit something she had obviously thought about before.
"As a matter of fact," she continued, calmly, "everybody says Cho sort of, stopped talking to anyone about a week before the end of last term. And nobody's really seen her around the school, outside of classes and mealtimes, I mean. Even Dumbledore and Flitwick's been worried about her. Harry, she's a wreck. She's been, ever since you two..."
Harry considered this. If any of this was true, why didn't Cho just say something to him? Then Harry realized that he had done the rejecting last year. But this couldn't be true because he and Cho were really good friends now, or at least they were, until he yelled at her.
"Okay, okay," Harry returned to the conversation, "Let's just say for a second that this rubbish is true. Why tell Hermione then, why not tell it to me?" "Because..." Ginny hesitated, "Because she has to know." "Really," Harry said sardonically, "Why's that?" Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Because of Ron," she said coolly.
"What?" Harry asked feeling stupefied once more. "Oh don't be thick Harry," she half-shouted, "my brother's liked Hermione for ages, but you're all she ever talks about, aren't you?" Harry automatically dismissed this absurd idea.
Then, before he could mention one of the dozen or so facts that would put this rumor to rest, he suddenly remembered something Viktor Krum had told him. "Hermy-own-ninny talks about you very often."
Ginny plowed on, "But if Hermione knew you still fancied Cho, and Cho you, well... she'd want to help you two get back together, and then she might stop talking about you long enough for Ron to go after her, like he would have at the ball until you two did that little jig." Harry protested. "But Hermione doesn't fancy me," he said, almost laughing at the very thought.
"Doesn't she?" Ginny accused, "Couldn't keep her eyes off you that night at the ball, could she? Hugs you every time you meet after holiday, doesn't she?" Harry glared at her, but she persisted. "C'mon Harry. Even in my first year I saw it. I was so jealous. She was always with you." Ginny fell back into her seat looking glum.
Harry habitually sank his hands into his pockets and suddenly felt the photo of him and Hermione. With a pang of guilt, Harry remembered how much Hermione's companionship really meant to him. Then his guilt turned into horror at the thought that he and Hermione might never speak to each other again.
"Where's Ron," he asked, thinking about all the times he and Hermione had patched things up and wondering if he should ask his advice. "I haven't seen him," Ginny shrugged.
"Hullo Harry," Mark said as he walked in, "Hagrid was looking for you." "I gotta go," Harry said to Ginny, who merely nodded, her eyes shut as though her head was hurting. "Mark, bring my broom up to the dorm for me please," he said, heading for the portrait hole.
Harry made his way down the marble stairs lost in thought about Hermione. All he wanted to do was to put his arms around her and make her understand how sorry he was. Then he saw Cho's face quite vividly and remembered that Hermione wasn't the only one he had yelled at today.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, deciding he no longer wanted to think about Cho just now because he had to make things right with Hermione first. "Hullo," said a dreamy voice. "Oh, hi Luna," Harry said, "You ah, haven't seen Hermione Granger, have you?"
"Oh yes. She was in an awful way." Harry felt his heart jump, "Where?" Luna pointed to the oak front doors. "She ran outside, crying." The next thing Harry knew, he was heading off in the direction of Hagrid's hut. He remembered how Hermione had gone there before when she was in this sort of state, and Hagrid would drop anything to help any one of them.
When he reached Hagrid's front door, he decided to listen first and see if Hermione was done crying, but when he pressed his ear to the door, there were no sounds at all from inside. Maybe they were in the pumpkin patch around the back, he thought, realizing how desperate he was to find Hermione now.
Harry wasn't sure what he was going to say to her. All he was sure of was that he really wanted to see her. He made his way around the small hut in a half-daze and his heart was thumping really hard now, his anticipation was fit to burst.
When Harry rounded the corner however, he felt his heart stop. Hermione was in the pumpkin patch, but she was not alone. She was with Ron, and he was kissing her, gently wiping the tears from her face. For a moment all Harry did was stand there, rooted to the spot, but then he felt Luna tugging on his arm and saw her finger pressed to her lips.