OR DIE TRYING: CHO CHANG'S SIXTH YEAR
By monkeymouse
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.
Rated: PG
Spoilers: Everything
xxx
21. Just the Two of Us
"I'll see you around, Harry."
Since she started talking to Harry Potter, that had become the phrase Cho always used to end their conversations. And she had planned to say it to Harry in the castle, or perhaps on the steps up to the front door, after a day in Hogsmeade, happy, relaxed, getting to know each other better. Perhaps she would say it after a kiss, soft and lingering, like the one they shared before Christmas...
But this wasn't like that; not at all. Cho was crying, but not just from sorrow: she felt sad, and angry, and embarrassed, and utterly confused. She turned and ran out of Madam Puddifoot's.
She ran into a violent rainstorm. Wind whipped down from the hills, driving the rain until it stung her face. She didn't care that, at times, she couldn't see six feet in front of her; she ran all the way back to Hogwarts, slipping on the unpaved road and falling in the mud several times. She didn't care.
How? How had it happened? This day was supposed to be perfect; how had it all gone so wrong?
xxx
Things in Hogwarts were relatively quiet once the holidays ended. The first Quidditch match of the year wouldn't be until 21 February; Gryffindor was playing Hufflepuff, and the outcome of that one was as predictable as when Ravenclaw played Hufflepuff earlier. Or perhaps not; now both teams were fielding inexperienced Seekers. Davies talked about the altered Gryffindor team, but Cho just didn't seem to hear. She spent a lot of time thinking about something else.
It wasn't Quidditch, and it wasn't Umbridge's latest Edict, which didn't make any sense until she heard the rumour that Professor Hagrid was under probation. According to Padma Patil, so was Professor Trelawney, but Cho gave her no thought at all. She felt nothing but contempt for Divination, for those who studied it and those who taught it, since it had failed to alert anyone that Cedric Diggory would die in the Third Task.
It wasn't even Dumbledore's Army, which usually met on Tuesdays now, that preoccupied her. "I asked Potter about changing the date," Zacharias Smith was saying one time, just as a meeting of the study group was breaking up. "He said something about Remedial Potions with Snape. Hard to imagine anyone that bad off."
"Well, Snape would rattle anyone," Parvati Patil replied. "Plus it's our O.W.L.s year; can't blame Harry for wanting to get good marks in a dodgy subject."
Cho, overhearing the conversation, simply nodded. She remembered how Snape had singled her out in her First Year, and how she'd tried to avoid him after that. She remembered the pressures of the O.W.L.s, and how--even though it wasn't necessary--Cedric had offered to coach her in some subjects. He wasn't much of a help, but the offer was sweet--
"Er, Cho."
Harry. She turned to face him, and realized that her eyes were beginning to tear up yet again.
"Are you, er, I mean, how are you?"
She quickly wiped her eyes, saying, "I'm fine, Harry." Then her face lit up with the kind of smile she seldom had since Cedric's death. "We're still on for Saturday, right?"
"What, Hogsmeade? Yeh, looking forward to it." Harry, however, didn't seem to be looking forward to it; if anything he seemed rather nervous.
Cho had to have seen it, but she gave no notice. "I'll meet you in the entrance hall, after breakfast."
"Sounds good."
Before Cho could say or do anything else, Marietta was at her side, clearing her throat rather loudly. Cho grabbed Marietta's arm and steered her toward the classroom door, saying over her shoulder, "I'll see you around, Harry!"
As they descended the stairs to Ravenclaw House, Cho said, half in jest, "You could have given us thirty more seconds, you know."
"Why? You'll have all day Saturday."
True, Cho thought. Harry and I together, the whole day...
Every day since the holidays ended, and sometimes twice a day, Cho had gotten lost in her thoughts of a Hogsmeade visit with Harry...
xxx
She ran back toward the castle, but turned away from the stone steps and kept on toward the Greenhouses. She ran straight toward the back wall: the secret doorway to a garden that Cedric had tended all his years at Hogwarts. It had been his refuge, his escape-valve from the anger he felt at his father, from the pressure he put on his son's life. It was also a secret place where he and Cho spent a wonderful spring-time, putting in plants, holding and kissing one another, and until now, she hadn't given in to the temptation to revisit the garden.
She drew her wand and traced a circle on the wall, as she and Cedric had done so many times to open the door. Nothing. She tried again and again. The wall wouldn't open. Sprout must have given the garden to another student who needed it, or simply closed it off altogether.
With this refuge and reminder literally closed to her, Cho simply gave up. She slid down the wall to the ground, where she knelt in the mud, one cheek pressed against the wet bricks, crying--but not for Cedric. Only once did she speak, when she turned her face, wet with tears and rain, to the clouded sky and shouted one word:
"HARRY!"
Nobody heard.
xxx
Cho was awake before sunrise on Saturday, 14 February. She'd gotten almost no sleep the night before and precious little sleep the night before that, so keyed up and anxious was she about her date with Harry Potter. It promised so much in itself, and promised even more for the future...
She wasn't entirely sure what to wear; as many times as she imagined the date, she'd never given a thought to clothing. The skies were a bit gloomy, and promised bad weather later, but the last week or so had been warmer than usual: most of the snows of January had already melted away, and any storms today would bring rain rather than snow. In the end, just as it had before the Yule Ball, her inability to decide on fashion had left it to the last minute to choose. She put on a knit dress in Tutshill colors (two different shades of blue), horizontal stripes, with long sleeves but falling just below the knee. Then she pulled her hair back into a ponytail; it had grown out several inches since she'd had it cut over the summer, and again reached down onto her back. Fixing the ponytail in place with the lacquered comb she got when she was a First Year, she looked at herself, then looked again. She couldn't stop looking.
She was so preoccupied with her reflection that she hadn't noticed Raina al-Qaba came into the room for the second of her five daily prayers. "You really look all right, you know," Raina offered.
Cho continued to look at her reflection. "It ... it's not that."
"Something wrong?"
Cho finally turned away from the mirror and sat on the edge of her bed. "Oh, Raina, I'm -- afraid."
"Of what?"
"Everything!" Cho hadn't had anyone but Marietta to confide in all year; now that Raina was offering a sympathetic ear, Cho simply blurted out everything at once. "I'm worried about what to say, what to do, how I'll act, how long to stay, whether I'll go to pieces, whether he thinks I'll go to pieces--"
"Stop, Cho!" Raina actually came over and put her hands on Cho's shoulders. This seemed to calm Cho somewhat. "All this because of a Hogsmeade trip with a boy?"
When Raina put it that way, Cho suddenly felt foolish, but tried to defend herself. "Not just a trip, really," she said quietly, "it's Valentine's."
"Well, try not to think about that," Raina smiled. "It's not as if I've had any experience in that line, but you'll just worry yourself into doing or saying the wrong thing if you keep thinking about it. Just let things happen as they happen."
"The will of Allah?" Cho smiled ruefully.
"I think you could do worse." Raina had laid her prayer-mat out on her bed; with a last smile at Cho, she drew the bed-curtains.
I can't see how to leave anything up to anything, Cho thought as she descended the stairs to the main entrance. Can't trust to luck: Ravenclaws are supposed to be too smart to believe in luck. Can't trust to faith, or not hers, anyway; we were brought up with such different ideas of Heaven. I suppose the only thing to do is be a Seeker: watch for opportunities, and then take them.
When she got to the entrance hall, she stood just to the side of the doors, choosing not to eat breakfast at all, watching the stairs that led down from Gryffindor's part of the castle. She didn't have to wait five minutes before Harry appeared, coming out of the Great Hall, wearing a bulky sweater and blue jeans.
"Hi," Cho smiled at him.
"Hi," Harry replied. Cho, who still felt a bit nervous, noticed that Harry was also a bit nervous. But he recovered and asked, "Well, erm, shall we go, then?"
They didn't immediately go; they had to get in the queue to have their names checked off by Argus Filch. He squinted sharply at the list on his clipboard, marked off their names, then proceeded to sniff the air around Harry for a minute. Perhaps he was still searching for traces of the spurious Dungbombs he was seeking last September in the Owlery. Cho was tempted to say something to him about it but, before she could, he'd waved them out the door. They walked down the great stone steps, side by side, and set out toward Hogsmeade. In silence.
The awkward silence made Cho nervous. She looked at Harry, but Harry was looking at the stadium, where Gryffindor was practicing for next Saturday's match against Hufflepuff. Now and then she could see a figure in red robes rise up above the edge of the stadium, then sink back out of sight.
He wants to be there, Cho said to herself. He's been a Seeker since First Year, and now Umbridge has banned him for life. His heart must be broken...
Cho didn't care that Harry wasn't paying attention to her; she knew how he must be feeling, and just wanted to let him know that she knew: "You really miss it, don't you?"
Maybe he'd forgotten she was there after all, but he turned toward Cho. "Yeah," he sighed, "I do."
Cho tried continuing the conversation: "Remember the first time we played against each other, in your Third Year?"
As soon as she said that, Harry smiled. It worked, she thought. So she chatted on with him about Quidditch; about matches at Hogwarts, about Oliver Wood, the former Gryffindor Captain who'd found a spot as Keeper for Puddlemere United (she'd have to correct Roger Davies; he'd heard that it was Pride of Portee), about the World Quidditch Cup. Before Cho even realized it, they were out of the castle gates and on the path to Hogsmeade.
They were still talking about the World Quidditch Cup as they walked past the lake toward the village. Yes, Cho thought with part of her mind while another part chatted about the campground and the Bulgarians; yes, Harry, smile. I want you to be happy, now and when you remember this day years from now. I'll do or say whatever it takes to make you happy, surely you know that...
They were talking about the Wronski Feint, which Viktor Krum had used against the Irish, and Cho hinted that she'd been studying the Wronski to try to figure out a way to counter it. (She didn't tell Harry that she thought she'd found such a way; she could hear Roger Davies in her head, yelling that Harry was still an opposing Seeker, no matter what Umbridge says, and how dare Cho give their secrets away...)
"POTTER AND CHANG?! URCHH!!"
They both froze at that rude shriek and a chorus of giggles which greeted it. It was a Slytherin, of course: Pansy Parkinson, who had been Draco Malfoy's date for the Yule Ball, who went all to pieces over Draco when he'd been scratched by the hippogriff two years before. Why wasn't she hanging off of Draco's arm now, instead of with a gaggle of Slytherin Fifth Year girls?
"Chang, I don't think much of your taste! At least Diggory was good-looking!"
As the Slytherin girls laughed, and Harry blushed crimson, Cho had all she could do to keep her hand away from the pocket that held her wand. She wanted to hex Parkinson into the middle of next month--until she saw that, like Malfoy, she wore a Prefect's badge. If Cho tried anything, for any reason, Parkinson would complain about her to Snape, who would complain to Umbridge, who might rule her off Quidditch along with Harry. And she simply wasn't as brave as Harry was; she couldn't bear that. She simply stood, trembling, red-faced, close to tears, more ashamed of herself and her impotence than she'd ever been in her life.
It barely registered with her that Harry had taken a step forward; she followed along beside him, but both of them were silent again. Cho still heard the Slytherin giggles in her ears, and she wondered if Harry took those swine seriously, if maybe he was regretting asking her to spend the Hogsmeade visit with him...
xxx
Cho was a Ravenclaw, and hence knew enough to come in out of the rain. Still, the time that she spent kneeling in the mud by the stone wall in the rain was enough; by dinner she was coughing and feverish. She went down to the hospital wing, although she was barely able to get herself there and nearly fainted once she was inside.
"What in Merlin's name have you done to yourself?!" Madam Pomfrey shrieked. Cho felt too exhausted to even try to answer. "You're burning up with fever and as gray as a stone! Now I want you out of those clothes at once. Everything, Miss Chang, even the undergarments! You can be modest or you can be healthy. Honestly, I can't imagine what you were thinking, out in the rain. Still, on a Hogsmeade day, it's just a wonder there haven't been more like you. You're courting pneumonia, but I think we've got it in time. First we deal with the fever; take these two Ice Mice--don't look at them, girl, just swallow them down!"
Cho did as she was told, and at once the fever and dizziness began to fade, leaving her exhausted and barely able to finish undressing. She fell rather than sat on the nearest bed.
It was as if she was hearing a disembodied voice that had nothing to do with Madam Pomfrey. "What did you have for breakfast, Miss Chang?"
"No breakfast," she heard herself say sleepily.
"And did you get much rest last night?"
"Not really; nor the night before."
Cho felt as if she was sinking underwater. She barely heard Madam Pomfrey muttering to herself now: "...always takes the short, slight ones the hardest. At least it wasn't snowing; that would have just made it worse. Now just lie there, Miss Chang, and no matter how hot you may feel, do not take off the covers. Once the fever breaks, I'll be able to dose you with some Pepper-Up."
xxx
"So." Harry finally broke the silence that followed after the encounter with Pansy Parkinson. "Where do you want to go?"
Cho shrugged, tried to appear as if the Slytherins weren't even worth thinking about. "Oh, I don't mind. Erm, shall we just have a look in the shops or ... something?"
They walked the length of Hogsmeade's High Street, glancing at shops they'd seen a dozen times before: Honeyduke's Sweetshop, filled to overflowing with Third Years; Gladrags Wizardwear with its windows full of the new spring robes ("Let our Passion for Fashion put Zing in your Spring!"); and Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop at the junction of two paths. A right turn would take them to the Hog's Head, where Dumbledore's Army was born. They continued straight until they came to Dervish and Banges, whose window did not display any of their magical items. Instead, they had put up the poster of the ten Death Eaters who had managed to escape from Azkaban.
They stood next to each other looking at the poster. They hadn't spoken to each other in several minutes, which Cho thought was not the way to conduct a date. As she looked at the poster, though, she was reminded of another poster--
"It's funny, isn't it? Remember when that Sirius Black escaped and there were Dementors all over Hogsmeade looking for him?" She looked over her shoulder, half expecting to see even one Dementor. "Now ten Death Eaters are on the loose and there aren't any Dementors anywhere."
At first she wasn't sure if Harry appreciated her remarks, but he too looked over his shoulder and said, "Yeah, it is weird."
Inwardly, Cho smiled. I think this may be important, she thought, but all I need to do is call it to Harry's attention. He's head of the Army, he'll know what to do, work it into the lessons somehow...
Clouds were gathering overhead, they started back to the station, but rain started falling when they came back to the junction. It would be good if they found shelter, but the Hog's Head was right out; only if there was no other choice would she go back to that barnyard-smelling place. But there was an alternative.
"Erm, do you want to get a coffee?" Cho asked, hesitant to bring it up if Harry would rather just dash back to the castle.
"Yeah, all right; where?"
"Oh, there's a really nice place just up here." She tugged Harry's arm to follow her on the path leading away from ther Hog's Head and toward...
"Haven't you ever been in Madam Puddifoot's?" Cho asked cheerily as she ushered Harry through the door of what could only be called "a quaint little tea shop".
xxx
When Cho woke up Sunday, it was already after breakfast; she had slept, deep and dreamless, for over ten hours. Still, all that she wanted to do was pull the covers over her head and go back to sleep.
"Past time for breakfast, Miss Chang!"
Madam Pomfrey's cheerful announcement was as welcome to Cho's ears as Pansy Parkinson. "I can't," she muttered.
"You can and you must."
"But, but my stomach. I feel as if I have to ..."
"Merlin's beard, do you think I'd feed you rashers and eggs?"
The mention of breakfast, even the thought of it, was all it took. Cho gagged, looked about frantically, saw a cauldron next to her bed and vomited into it, hoping that Pomfrey had put it there for that purpose.
"Ah, still bad off, I see," Pomfrey said as she wiped Cho's face with a damp cloth. "Well, this will settle your stomach, and give you some of your strength back."
Cho was wary of the spoonful of reddish liquid, but it smelled of jasmine flowers. As she swallowed it, she realized that it had no taste and hardly any substance; it seemed more like a meringue than a potion.
As Cho sat up in bed, the covers fell away and she realized that she was still nude. Before she could ask it, though, Madam Pomfrey was handing her a night-gown.
"Just wanted to be sure your fever was over. No substitute for sweating, sometimes."
"Yes, ma'am. Have ... have there been any visitors?"
"No, because I've kept them out. You may be well enough to receive this afternoon, but I'll be the judge of that."
"Who were they?"
"Professor Flitwick; I notified him of your condition, of course. Your Prefect friend, Miss Edgecombe, has been asking after you."
"Erm, anyone else?"
"No. Is there someone you want to contact?"
"No," Cho sighed. "Thanks anyway."
"Try and get some more sleep, dear; I'll be back with some more elixir in a few hours."
Cho looked down the long row of empty beds. He didn't ask after her; he didn't care to ask. He didn't care at all.
No, he cared. He must have cared! What was that all about just before Christmas, then?
Maybe it was about nothing. Could we have misunderstood each other so completely?
No, Cho decided. I didn't talk myself into this. There's something to my feelings for Harry. They're real. And we were getting along so well at first ...
xxx
"Cute, isn't it?"
Cho's question was first answered by Harry's silence; then, when he realized he was expected to say something, half-heartedly agreed with Cho.
"Look, she's decorated it for Valentine's Day!"
Actually, and Cho probably would have remembered if she was with anyone but Harry, Madam Puddifoot's looked as if Gilderoy Lockhart had decorated it for Valentine's Day. Small wrought-iron tables were scattered around the room, with two wrought iron chairs and just enough table space for a pot of tea and two cups. Tiny golden cherubs circled the room, moving from table to table, tossing heart-shaped confetti at the customers. One cherub tossed some at Cho, who shrieked with delight.
Harry, on the other hand, looked anything but delighted.
There was only one table open, next to the main window overlooking the lane; they made for it and sat down. Cho noticed that Harry didn't pull a chair out for her, as Cedric always did on the few times they went to Hogsmeade. No need to stand on ceremony, she decided.
Then she saw Harry looking past her with what could only be called dread. She turned and, for the first time, saw who was sitting less than two feet away: Roger Davies. At the same table was another Seventh Year Ravenclaw, Annabella Smoot, a girl who seemed to revel in her own hunger for boys. She's never been seen with Roger before, but she was with him now. They were holding hands, staring at each other, grinning vacantly--as were, Cho realized, almost every other couple in the place. It was like living in a village full of veela. She and Harry were the only exceptions.
Fortunately, Madam Puttifoot managed to squeeze her bulk between Cho's table and Roger's. "What can I get for you, my dears?"
Harry looked for a menu, but there was none. There were only a few things on the bill of fare, and you just had to ask. "Two coffees, please," Cho said.
The moment Madam Puttifoot walked away, Cho remembered her first--her only other--time here, with Cedric. He had ordered for her, and she had chided him for it--gently, of course, but firmly, and now she'd been just as rude to Harry as Cedric was to her. She hated herself for it, then tried to rationalize it away; after all, Harry looked like he felt out of place; somebody had to take control. But that even sounded like an awful excuse. Before she could decide what to do, the coffee arrived--and Roger and Annabella had moved beyond hand-holding.
She remembered kissing Cedric, and was quite sure it hadn't looked like that--all gaping mouths and pulsing tongues and breathing hard and fast through the nose. It looked naked, somehow; obscene. Cho couldn't think of anything to say to Harry, who, for his part, looked up at the ceiling, only to be pelted with more confetti.
Cho tried to change the subject. "What's the latest you've heard on Umbridge?"
"That cow's doing something new, then?"
"She's put Professor Hagrid on probation since term started."
"Oh. Yeah, I knew that."
"Oh."
"Damn shame, too; he's a really great teacher."
"You think so?"
"Well, he knows so much about Magical Creatures. Of course, they get out of hand sometimes."
"I suppose so."
"She's after Madam Trelawney, too."
"Well, I don't have much respect for her; seems a right phony sometimes."
"Yeah, I guess so. Sometimes."
The silence at their table was almost as deafening as the sounds of Roger and Annabella snogging less than a yard away. Say something, Harry, Cho thought; say anything.
He said exactly the wrong thing:
"Er, listen, do you want to come with me to the Three Broomsticks at lunchtime? I'm meeting Hermione Granger there."
I didn't just hear that. "You're meeting Hermione Granger? Today??"
"Yeah, well, she asked me to, so I thought I would."
So that's all I am to you, Harry, an afterthought?
And Harry simply made matters worse: "Do you want to come with me? She said it wouldn't matter if you did."
"Oh. Well, that was NICE of her." You ask me to Hogsmeade, and she says I don't matter and you agree with her?!
Cho stared at nothing, really, as she tried to sort this out. He's a wonderful person and a great Defense teacher and the best Seeker in Hogwarts now and possibly ever! Can he be so absolutely THICK that he doesn't realize what he's saying? What he's doing? She glanced at Roger and Annabella, and realized that she'd have to lay it out for Harry, step by step if need be.
"He asked me out, you know, a couple of weeks ago. Roger. I turned him down, though." Don't you understand, Harry? You're not an afterthought to me. I had a chance at him but I preferred to be with you! Can't you see that?
But Harry didn't seem to see anything but his coffee-cup; he appeared to be reading the dregs--or at least the confetti the cherub kept tossing at them.
From the moment Harry mentioned Hermione's name, something new began building inside Cho. It was a version of herself, yet it was a very different Cho: not merely jealous but spitefully so, prepared to say or do anything, no matter how hurtful, if she felt threatened. And she felt threatened now.
And Cho felt threatened by this spiteful alien within her. She tried to shove it aside, but Madam Puddifoot's wasn't offering much by way of distraction: there was Harry, who looked utterly confused, and then there were Roger and Annabella, who looked as if they were about to tear each other's robes off and perform some kind of act impossible to do on the shop's tiny tables...
Back to Harry, then, who looked at Cho as if she really were some sort of alien being. Why had she brought him here? What did she know of such places?
Every fancy, every daydream she had entertained about Harry since, well, two years ago, maybe longer, was fading away. Very well, she decided; this may be the last chance I ever get to ask him directly, and a Seeker takes her chances when they occur:
"I came in here with ... Cedric last year."
At least one thing went as expected. She knew her mention of Cedric would hit Harry like a body-blow. Not that the unfeeling little git didn't deserve it, muttered the spiteful alien within her. But it hit her, too, being reminded of happier times, with someone who understood her, understood the world, understood so many things she had never known before... She started to lose her composure, as she knew she would, and she no longer cared, in her rush to finally, finally ask Harry the one question she never had answered: had Cedric, in the final hours before his death, forgiven Cho for their argument--the last time they had spoken?
"I've been meaning to ask you for ages." Her voice started cracking, her eyes started tearing up again. Cho no longer cared. This was her last and only chance. "Did Cedric ... did he ..." She started breaking down, but not before saying the words out loud for the first, possibly last, time: "mention me at all before he died?"
She could see the pain of the memory on Harry's face; well, let it hurt him! Maybe he'll realize that I've been hurt, too!
Harry, looking more tormented than Cho had seen since she saw him having the nightmare about his mother being killed, could hardly bring himself to look at Cho. "Well, no. There ... there wasn't time for him to say anything."
No. One word, and this last living link to Cedric's final hours was gone.
"Erm..."
No, wait; he had more to say...
"So, do you ... do you get to see a lot of Quidditch in the holidays? You support the Tornadoes, right?"
This was one of Cho's nightmares come to life. He wanted to talk about Quidditch?! Damn Quidditch--this was about a human being! A friend of theirs!
"Look," Harry leaned closer, practically murmuring in her ear, "let's not talk about Cedric right now. Let's talk about something else."
At this point, Cho lost control of everything. She forgot everything she'd talked about with the Muggle grief counselor, with Penelope Clearwater, with Marietta. She forgot every lesson her parents had tried to teach her about growing up Chinese in an Anglo country--especially the part about not showing your emotions. Cho was filled with nothing but emotions now, and those emotions poured out of her mouth as tears started to pour out of her eyes.
"I thought-- I thought you'd understand: I NEED to talk about it! Surely, you need to talk about it, too! I mean, you saw it happen, didn't you?"
Harry looked at her as if she were a basilisk, then tried to get her to calm down. "Well, I have talked about it, to Ron and Hermione and--"
At the mention of Hermione's name--a Gryffindor girl, Cho seemed to hear her mother say, and a WHITE girl--the spiteful new demon in Cho took control. "Oh! You'll talk to Hermione Granger, but you won't talk to me! Perhaps it would be best if we just-- just paid and you went and met up with Hermione Granger, like you obviously want to!"
Cho took a napkin, holding it to her eyes, sobbing into it, trying to wipe the tears from her face, apparently unaware that she had shouted loud enough at Harry--in a crowded coffee shop, no less--to briefly drown out the rain hammering on the windows.
Harry, for his part, gaped like a stunned troll, and could only manage the word, "Cho?"
Perhaps she'd forgotten he was still there until he spoke; this only provoked Cho to attack him yet again. "Go on! Leave! I don't know why you asked me out in the first place if you're going to make arrangements to meet other girls right after me!" She couldn't help what came next: the spiteful demon urged her to twist the knife she'd already plunged into Harry. "How many are you meeting AFTER Hermione?!"
Harry rallied to his own defense: "It's not like that!" And gave a nervous chuckle.
Cho was on her feet at once. He thinks this is funny ... He thinks this is FUNNY!!!
"I'll ... see you around, Harry!"
xxx
Just as the sun was setting, there was a knock at the door to the hospital wing. Cho had awakened a few minutes before, feeling better, so Madam Pomfrey opened the door.
Marietta.
She walked over to the neighboring bed and sat down on it as if they were back in the Ravenclaw Common Room. She didn't say anything at first, but looked quietly at Cho.
Cho felt her cheeks start to burn. "Tell me the worst of it, then. I'm sure everyone thinks I'm the most foolish witch in Hogwarts."
"Well, I don't know about everyone, but a couple of Fourth Years were having a laugh at your expense last night. Roger put a stop to that."
"Roger?"
"Just an oblique threat; nothing that a Prefect or Flitwick could take points for, but he made it plain that you're not to be teased about yesterday."
"I wish yesterday had never happened."
"It's a shame, since you wanted it so badly. Exactly what happened?"
"I ... don't want to talk about it. Not just yet."
"Ah. Well, are you caught up on your assignments?"
"Of course; got caught up Friday night. Typical Ravenclaw," Cho smiled sadly.
Marietta smiled, too. "Pomfrey says you're here for another night. Can I get you anything?"
"No, just--sit with me for a while."
Marietta sat by Cho's bed for another thirty minutes, before she had to go attend a Prefects' Meeting. They didn't speak for most of that time, but Cho felt that, somehow, they communicated more than the stretches of silence had with Harry...
Harry, who hadn't inquired about her; Harry, who was probably somewhere with Hermione Granger.
As soon as Marietta left, Cho reseolved never to speak to Harry Potter again.
Within ten minutes, she was crying into her pillow. She had tried to cast him out of her heart, but the pain was too great.
xxx
That night, Cho Chang dreamed of a completely deserted Hogsmeade. All of the shops were open but unattended. Nobody was there. Fires burned in the hearths, but otherwise there were no signs of life.
The absence of people, the silence--it was more frightening than any monster could have been. Having come to the end of town and found nobody there, she ran back.
There! She saw two people on the platform: Harry and Hermione Granger. They were just standing there, casually chatting, as if the town hadn't suddenly lost everyone. They seemed to be waiting for the train to take them back to London.
Harry looked at Cho, with no emotion on his face at all. Hermione opened her mouth to speak:
"HEM HEM!"
Cho's eyes flew open and her body froze beneath the covers. That voice wasn't a dream!
The sun had gone down; it was night-time, but Cho didn't know what time it was. Still, why was Umbridge at the door to the hospital wing, talking with Madam Pomfrey?
"Such a big school, so many things needing my attention," said Madam Umbridge in that mincing voice of hers, talking through the door that Madam Pomfrey had opened just a crack.
"That's as may be, Madam Inquisitor," Pomfrey answered back coolly. "However, I have a sick student here and your visit is a distraction. It might even make things worse. Please understand that she needs MY attention."
"Ah. Case proving a bit too difficult for you, eh?"
"Madam Inquisitor," Pomfrey interrupted, "this school has a very long history, and students have on occasion died at Hogwarts. I'm sure you don't want that to happen on your watch. Now, please, leave me to my work!" Without another word she closed the door in Umbridge's face.
As Pomfrey walked past the beds, Cho called out, as loudly as her weakened state would permit her: "Madam Pomfrey?"
"Yes, my dear?"
"I ... I heard just now," Cho said, tears starting to form in her eyes. "Does this mean I'm ... going to die?"
"Ah, no, child," Pomfrey smiled, sitting on the bed and stroking Cho's forehead. "I didn't mean to distress you. I just had to say something to get rid of that--that--" She either couldn't find a word to describe Umbridge or didn't want to utter it in Cho's presence.
"But it's going to be all right," Cho started to speak again.
"Of course it is, but only if you get a good night's sleep tonight. Then a dose of Arbuthnot's Appetite Enhancement Elixir before you go down to breakfast and you'll be ready to greet the day. But first you need to get back to sleep. Not enough sleep and not enough to eat; that's what knocked out your resistance. I'll check up on you in a few minutes." With that, she rose and went back to the end of the wing.
I meant about Umbridge, Cho thought as she turned over in bed. It'll be all right; the Army will see to that. We're getting stronger, stronger than we ever would have been before Umbridge came here. All thanks to Harry--
Then she remembered: Harry Potter was the last person she wanted to think about. She fluffed up her pillow rather violently, and tried to get back to sleep.
xxx
to be continued in part 22, wherein Cho watches Gryffindor's new Seeker, and finds out (along with the rest of the wizarding world) what really happened on the night of the Third Task ...
By monkeymouse
NB: JKRowling built the Potterverse; I'm just redecorating one of the rooms. And one of the great things about JKR telling the story from Harry's point of view is that stuff could be happening all over Hogwarts that Harry isn't aware of.
Rated: PG
Spoilers: Everything
xxx
21. Just the Two of Us
"I'll see you around, Harry."
Since she started talking to Harry Potter, that had become the phrase Cho always used to end their conversations. And she had planned to say it to Harry in the castle, or perhaps on the steps up to the front door, after a day in Hogsmeade, happy, relaxed, getting to know each other better. Perhaps she would say it after a kiss, soft and lingering, like the one they shared before Christmas...
But this wasn't like that; not at all. Cho was crying, but not just from sorrow: she felt sad, and angry, and embarrassed, and utterly confused. She turned and ran out of Madam Puddifoot's.
She ran into a violent rainstorm. Wind whipped down from the hills, driving the rain until it stung her face. She didn't care that, at times, she couldn't see six feet in front of her; she ran all the way back to Hogwarts, slipping on the unpaved road and falling in the mud several times. She didn't care.
How? How had it happened? This day was supposed to be perfect; how had it all gone so wrong?
xxx
Things in Hogwarts were relatively quiet once the holidays ended. The first Quidditch match of the year wouldn't be until 21 February; Gryffindor was playing Hufflepuff, and the outcome of that one was as predictable as when Ravenclaw played Hufflepuff earlier. Or perhaps not; now both teams were fielding inexperienced Seekers. Davies talked about the altered Gryffindor team, but Cho just didn't seem to hear. She spent a lot of time thinking about something else.
It wasn't Quidditch, and it wasn't Umbridge's latest Edict, which didn't make any sense until she heard the rumour that Professor Hagrid was under probation. According to Padma Patil, so was Professor Trelawney, but Cho gave her no thought at all. She felt nothing but contempt for Divination, for those who studied it and those who taught it, since it had failed to alert anyone that Cedric Diggory would die in the Third Task.
It wasn't even Dumbledore's Army, which usually met on Tuesdays now, that preoccupied her. "I asked Potter about changing the date," Zacharias Smith was saying one time, just as a meeting of the study group was breaking up. "He said something about Remedial Potions with Snape. Hard to imagine anyone that bad off."
"Well, Snape would rattle anyone," Parvati Patil replied. "Plus it's our O.W.L.s year; can't blame Harry for wanting to get good marks in a dodgy subject."
Cho, overhearing the conversation, simply nodded. She remembered how Snape had singled her out in her First Year, and how she'd tried to avoid him after that. She remembered the pressures of the O.W.L.s, and how--even though it wasn't necessary--Cedric had offered to coach her in some subjects. He wasn't much of a help, but the offer was sweet--
"Er, Cho."
Harry. She turned to face him, and realized that her eyes were beginning to tear up yet again.
"Are you, er, I mean, how are you?"
She quickly wiped her eyes, saying, "I'm fine, Harry." Then her face lit up with the kind of smile she seldom had since Cedric's death. "We're still on for Saturday, right?"
"What, Hogsmeade? Yeh, looking forward to it." Harry, however, didn't seem to be looking forward to it; if anything he seemed rather nervous.
Cho had to have seen it, but she gave no notice. "I'll meet you in the entrance hall, after breakfast."
"Sounds good."
Before Cho could say or do anything else, Marietta was at her side, clearing her throat rather loudly. Cho grabbed Marietta's arm and steered her toward the classroom door, saying over her shoulder, "I'll see you around, Harry!"
As they descended the stairs to Ravenclaw House, Cho said, half in jest, "You could have given us thirty more seconds, you know."
"Why? You'll have all day Saturday."
True, Cho thought. Harry and I together, the whole day...
Every day since the holidays ended, and sometimes twice a day, Cho had gotten lost in her thoughts of a Hogsmeade visit with Harry...
xxx
She ran back toward the castle, but turned away from the stone steps and kept on toward the Greenhouses. She ran straight toward the back wall: the secret doorway to a garden that Cedric had tended all his years at Hogwarts. It had been his refuge, his escape-valve from the anger he felt at his father, from the pressure he put on his son's life. It was also a secret place where he and Cho spent a wonderful spring-time, putting in plants, holding and kissing one another, and until now, she hadn't given in to the temptation to revisit the garden.
She drew her wand and traced a circle on the wall, as she and Cedric had done so many times to open the door. Nothing. She tried again and again. The wall wouldn't open. Sprout must have given the garden to another student who needed it, or simply closed it off altogether.
With this refuge and reminder literally closed to her, Cho simply gave up. She slid down the wall to the ground, where she knelt in the mud, one cheek pressed against the wet bricks, crying--but not for Cedric. Only once did she speak, when she turned her face, wet with tears and rain, to the clouded sky and shouted one word:
"HARRY!"
Nobody heard.
xxx
Cho was awake before sunrise on Saturday, 14 February. She'd gotten almost no sleep the night before and precious little sleep the night before that, so keyed up and anxious was she about her date with Harry Potter. It promised so much in itself, and promised even more for the future...
She wasn't entirely sure what to wear; as many times as she imagined the date, she'd never given a thought to clothing. The skies were a bit gloomy, and promised bad weather later, but the last week or so had been warmer than usual: most of the snows of January had already melted away, and any storms today would bring rain rather than snow. In the end, just as it had before the Yule Ball, her inability to decide on fashion had left it to the last minute to choose. She put on a knit dress in Tutshill colors (two different shades of blue), horizontal stripes, with long sleeves but falling just below the knee. Then she pulled her hair back into a ponytail; it had grown out several inches since she'd had it cut over the summer, and again reached down onto her back. Fixing the ponytail in place with the lacquered comb she got when she was a First Year, she looked at herself, then looked again. She couldn't stop looking.
She was so preoccupied with her reflection that she hadn't noticed Raina al-Qaba came into the room for the second of her five daily prayers. "You really look all right, you know," Raina offered.
Cho continued to look at her reflection. "It ... it's not that."
"Something wrong?"
Cho finally turned away from the mirror and sat on the edge of her bed. "Oh, Raina, I'm -- afraid."
"Of what?"
"Everything!" Cho hadn't had anyone but Marietta to confide in all year; now that Raina was offering a sympathetic ear, Cho simply blurted out everything at once. "I'm worried about what to say, what to do, how I'll act, how long to stay, whether I'll go to pieces, whether he thinks I'll go to pieces--"
"Stop, Cho!" Raina actually came over and put her hands on Cho's shoulders. This seemed to calm Cho somewhat. "All this because of a Hogsmeade trip with a boy?"
When Raina put it that way, Cho suddenly felt foolish, but tried to defend herself. "Not just a trip, really," she said quietly, "it's Valentine's."
"Well, try not to think about that," Raina smiled. "It's not as if I've had any experience in that line, but you'll just worry yourself into doing or saying the wrong thing if you keep thinking about it. Just let things happen as they happen."
"The will of Allah?" Cho smiled ruefully.
"I think you could do worse." Raina had laid her prayer-mat out on her bed; with a last smile at Cho, she drew the bed-curtains.
I can't see how to leave anything up to anything, Cho thought as she descended the stairs to the main entrance. Can't trust to luck: Ravenclaws are supposed to be too smart to believe in luck. Can't trust to faith, or not hers, anyway; we were brought up with such different ideas of Heaven. I suppose the only thing to do is be a Seeker: watch for opportunities, and then take them.
When she got to the entrance hall, she stood just to the side of the doors, choosing not to eat breakfast at all, watching the stairs that led down from Gryffindor's part of the castle. She didn't have to wait five minutes before Harry appeared, coming out of the Great Hall, wearing a bulky sweater and blue jeans.
"Hi," Cho smiled at him.
"Hi," Harry replied. Cho, who still felt a bit nervous, noticed that Harry was also a bit nervous. But he recovered and asked, "Well, erm, shall we go, then?"
They didn't immediately go; they had to get in the queue to have their names checked off by Argus Filch. He squinted sharply at the list on his clipboard, marked off their names, then proceeded to sniff the air around Harry for a minute. Perhaps he was still searching for traces of the spurious Dungbombs he was seeking last September in the Owlery. Cho was tempted to say something to him about it but, before she could, he'd waved them out the door. They walked down the great stone steps, side by side, and set out toward Hogsmeade. In silence.
The awkward silence made Cho nervous. She looked at Harry, but Harry was looking at the stadium, where Gryffindor was practicing for next Saturday's match against Hufflepuff. Now and then she could see a figure in red robes rise up above the edge of the stadium, then sink back out of sight.
He wants to be there, Cho said to herself. He's been a Seeker since First Year, and now Umbridge has banned him for life. His heart must be broken...
Cho didn't care that Harry wasn't paying attention to her; she knew how he must be feeling, and just wanted to let him know that she knew: "You really miss it, don't you?"
Maybe he'd forgotten she was there after all, but he turned toward Cho. "Yeah," he sighed, "I do."
Cho tried continuing the conversation: "Remember the first time we played against each other, in your Third Year?"
As soon as she said that, Harry smiled. It worked, she thought. So she chatted on with him about Quidditch; about matches at Hogwarts, about Oliver Wood, the former Gryffindor Captain who'd found a spot as Keeper for Puddlemere United (she'd have to correct Roger Davies; he'd heard that it was Pride of Portee), about the World Quidditch Cup. Before Cho even realized it, they were out of the castle gates and on the path to Hogsmeade.
They were still talking about the World Quidditch Cup as they walked past the lake toward the village. Yes, Cho thought with part of her mind while another part chatted about the campground and the Bulgarians; yes, Harry, smile. I want you to be happy, now and when you remember this day years from now. I'll do or say whatever it takes to make you happy, surely you know that...
They were talking about the Wronski Feint, which Viktor Krum had used against the Irish, and Cho hinted that she'd been studying the Wronski to try to figure out a way to counter it. (She didn't tell Harry that she thought she'd found such a way; she could hear Roger Davies in her head, yelling that Harry was still an opposing Seeker, no matter what Umbridge says, and how dare Cho give their secrets away...)
"POTTER AND CHANG?! URCHH!!"
They both froze at that rude shriek and a chorus of giggles which greeted it. It was a Slytherin, of course: Pansy Parkinson, who had been Draco Malfoy's date for the Yule Ball, who went all to pieces over Draco when he'd been scratched by the hippogriff two years before. Why wasn't she hanging off of Draco's arm now, instead of with a gaggle of Slytherin Fifth Year girls?
"Chang, I don't think much of your taste! At least Diggory was good-looking!"
As the Slytherin girls laughed, and Harry blushed crimson, Cho had all she could do to keep her hand away from the pocket that held her wand. She wanted to hex Parkinson into the middle of next month--until she saw that, like Malfoy, she wore a Prefect's badge. If Cho tried anything, for any reason, Parkinson would complain about her to Snape, who would complain to Umbridge, who might rule her off Quidditch along with Harry. And she simply wasn't as brave as Harry was; she couldn't bear that. She simply stood, trembling, red-faced, close to tears, more ashamed of herself and her impotence than she'd ever been in her life.
It barely registered with her that Harry had taken a step forward; she followed along beside him, but both of them were silent again. Cho still heard the Slytherin giggles in her ears, and she wondered if Harry took those swine seriously, if maybe he was regretting asking her to spend the Hogsmeade visit with him...
xxx
Cho was a Ravenclaw, and hence knew enough to come in out of the rain. Still, the time that she spent kneeling in the mud by the stone wall in the rain was enough; by dinner she was coughing and feverish. She went down to the hospital wing, although she was barely able to get herself there and nearly fainted once she was inside.
"What in Merlin's name have you done to yourself?!" Madam Pomfrey shrieked. Cho felt too exhausted to even try to answer. "You're burning up with fever and as gray as a stone! Now I want you out of those clothes at once. Everything, Miss Chang, even the undergarments! You can be modest or you can be healthy. Honestly, I can't imagine what you were thinking, out in the rain. Still, on a Hogsmeade day, it's just a wonder there haven't been more like you. You're courting pneumonia, but I think we've got it in time. First we deal with the fever; take these two Ice Mice--don't look at them, girl, just swallow them down!"
Cho did as she was told, and at once the fever and dizziness began to fade, leaving her exhausted and barely able to finish undressing. She fell rather than sat on the nearest bed.
It was as if she was hearing a disembodied voice that had nothing to do with Madam Pomfrey. "What did you have for breakfast, Miss Chang?"
"No breakfast," she heard herself say sleepily.
"And did you get much rest last night?"
"Not really; nor the night before."
Cho felt as if she was sinking underwater. She barely heard Madam Pomfrey muttering to herself now: "...always takes the short, slight ones the hardest. At least it wasn't snowing; that would have just made it worse. Now just lie there, Miss Chang, and no matter how hot you may feel, do not take off the covers. Once the fever breaks, I'll be able to dose you with some Pepper-Up."
xxx
"So." Harry finally broke the silence that followed after the encounter with Pansy Parkinson. "Where do you want to go?"
Cho shrugged, tried to appear as if the Slytherins weren't even worth thinking about. "Oh, I don't mind. Erm, shall we just have a look in the shops or ... something?"
They walked the length of Hogsmeade's High Street, glancing at shops they'd seen a dozen times before: Honeyduke's Sweetshop, filled to overflowing with Third Years; Gladrags Wizardwear with its windows full of the new spring robes ("Let our Passion for Fashion put Zing in your Spring!"); and Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop at the junction of two paths. A right turn would take them to the Hog's Head, where Dumbledore's Army was born. They continued straight until they came to Dervish and Banges, whose window did not display any of their magical items. Instead, they had put up the poster of the ten Death Eaters who had managed to escape from Azkaban.
They stood next to each other looking at the poster. They hadn't spoken to each other in several minutes, which Cho thought was not the way to conduct a date. As she looked at the poster, though, she was reminded of another poster--
"It's funny, isn't it? Remember when that Sirius Black escaped and there were Dementors all over Hogsmeade looking for him?" She looked over her shoulder, half expecting to see even one Dementor. "Now ten Death Eaters are on the loose and there aren't any Dementors anywhere."
At first she wasn't sure if Harry appreciated her remarks, but he too looked over his shoulder and said, "Yeah, it is weird."
Inwardly, Cho smiled. I think this may be important, she thought, but all I need to do is call it to Harry's attention. He's head of the Army, he'll know what to do, work it into the lessons somehow...
Clouds were gathering overhead, they started back to the station, but rain started falling when they came back to the junction. It would be good if they found shelter, but the Hog's Head was right out; only if there was no other choice would she go back to that barnyard-smelling place. But there was an alternative.
"Erm, do you want to get a coffee?" Cho asked, hesitant to bring it up if Harry would rather just dash back to the castle.
"Yeah, all right; where?"
"Oh, there's a really nice place just up here." She tugged Harry's arm to follow her on the path leading away from ther Hog's Head and toward...
"Haven't you ever been in Madam Puddifoot's?" Cho asked cheerily as she ushered Harry through the door of what could only be called "a quaint little tea shop".
xxx
When Cho woke up Sunday, it was already after breakfast; she had slept, deep and dreamless, for over ten hours. Still, all that she wanted to do was pull the covers over her head and go back to sleep.
"Past time for breakfast, Miss Chang!"
Madam Pomfrey's cheerful announcement was as welcome to Cho's ears as Pansy Parkinson. "I can't," she muttered.
"You can and you must."
"But, but my stomach. I feel as if I have to ..."
"Merlin's beard, do you think I'd feed you rashers and eggs?"
The mention of breakfast, even the thought of it, was all it took. Cho gagged, looked about frantically, saw a cauldron next to her bed and vomited into it, hoping that Pomfrey had put it there for that purpose.
"Ah, still bad off, I see," Pomfrey said as she wiped Cho's face with a damp cloth. "Well, this will settle your stomach, and give you some of your strength back."
Cho was wary of the spoonful of reddish liquid, but it smelled of jasmine flowers. As she swallowed it, she realized that it had no taste and hardly any substance; it seemed more like a meringue than a potion.
As Cho sat up in bed, the covers fell away and she realized that she was still nude. Before she could ask it, though, Madam Pomfrey was handing her a night-gown.
"Just wanted to be sure your fever was over. No substitute for sweating, sometimes."
"Yes, ma'am. Have ... have there been any visitors?"
"No, because I've kept them out. You may be well enough to receive this afternoon, but I'll be the judge of that."
"Who were they?"
"Professor Flitwick; I notified him of your condition, of course. Your Prefect friend, Miss Edgecombe, has been asking after you."
"Erm, anyone else?"
"No. Is there someone you want to contact?"
"No," Cho sighed. "Thanks anyway."
"Try and get some more sleep, dear; I'll be back with some more elixir in a few hours."
Cho looked down the long row of empty beds. He didn't ask after her; he didn't care to ask. He didn't care at all.
No, he cared. He must have cared! What was that all about just before Christmas, then?
Maybe it was about nothing. Could we have misunderstood each other so completely?
No, Cho decided. I didn't talk myself into this. There's something to my feelings for Harry. They're real. And we were getting along so well at first ...
xxx
"Cute, isn't it?"
Cho's question was first answered by Harry's silence; then, when he realized he was expected to say something, half-heartedly agreed with Cho.
"Look, she's decorated it for Valentine's Day!"
Actually, and Cho probably would have remembered if she was with anyone but Harry, Madam Puddifoot's looked as if Gilderoy Lockhart had decorated it for Valentine's Day. Small wrought-iron tables were scattered around the room, with two wrought iron chairs and just enough table space for a pot of tea and two cups. Tiny golden cherubs circled the room, moving from table to table, tossing heart-shaped confetti at the customers. One cherub tossed some at Cho, who shrieked with delight.
Harry, on the other hand, looked anything but delighted.
There was only one table open, next to the main window overlooking the lane; they made for it and sat down. Cho noticed that Harry didn't pull a chair out for her, as Cedric always did on the few times they went to Hogsmeade. No need to stand on ceremony, she decided.
Then she saw Harry looking past her with what could only be called dread. She turned and, for the first time, saw who was sitting less than two feet away: Roger Davies. At the same table was another Seventh Year Ravenclaw, Annabella Smoot, a girl who seemed to revel in her own hunger for boys. She's never been seen with Roger before, but she was with him now. They were holding hands, staring at each other, grinning vacantly--as were, Cho realized, almost every other couple in the place. It was like living in a village full of veela. She and Harry were the only exceptions.
Fortunately, Madam Puttifoot managed to squeeze her bulk between Cho's table and Roger's. "What can I get for you, my dears?"
Harry looked for a menu, but there was none. There were only a few things on the bill of fare, and you just had to ask. "Two coffees, please," Cho said.
The moment Madam Puttifoot walked away, Cho remembered her first--her only other--time here, with Cedric. He had ordered for her, and she had chided him for it--gently, of course, but firmly, and now she'd been just as rude to Harry as Cedric was to her. She hated herself for it, then tried to rationalize it away; after all, Harry looked like he felt out of place; somebody had to take control. But that even sounded like an awful excuse. Before she could decide what to do, the coffee arrived--and Roger and Annabella had moved beyond hand-holding.
She remembered kissing Cedric, and was quite sure it hadn't looked like that--all gaping mouths and pulsing tongues and breathing hard and fast through the nose. It looked naked, somehow; obscene. Cho couldn't think of anything to say to Harry, who, for his part, looked up at the ceiling, only to be pelted with more confetti.
Cho tried to change the subject. "What's the latest you've heard on Umbridge?"
"That cow's doing something new, then?"
"She's put Professor Hagrid on probation since term started."
"Oh. Yeah, I knew that."
"Oh."
"Damn shame, too; he's a really great teacher."
"You think so?"
"Well, he knows so much about Magical Creatures. Of course, they get out of hand sometimes."
"I suppose so."
"She's after Madam Trelawney, too."
"Well, I don't have much respect for her; seems a right phony sometimes."
"Yeah, I guess so. Sometimes."
The silence at their table was almost as deafening as the sounds of Roger and Annabella snogging less than a yard away. Say something, Harry, Cho thought; say anything.
He said exactly the wrong thing:
"Er, listen, do you want to come with me to the Three Broomsticks at lunchtime? I'm meeting Hermione Granger there."
I didn't just hear that. "You're meeting Hermione Granger? Today??"
"Yeah, well, she asked me to, so I thought I would."
So that's all I am to you, Harry, an afterthought?
And Harry simply made matters worse: "Do you want to come with me? She said it wouldn't matter if you did."
"Oh. Well, that was NICE of her." You ask me to Hogsmeade, and she says I don't matter and you agree with her?!
Cho stared at nothing, really, as she tried to sort this out. He's a wonderful person and a great Defense teacher and the best Seeker in Hogwarts now and possibly ever! Can he be so absolutely THICK that he doesn't realize what he's saying? What he's doing? She glanced at Roger and Annabella, and realized that she'd have to lay it out for Harry, step by step if need be.
"He asked me out, you know, a couple of weeks ago. Roger. I turned him down, though." Don't you understand, Harry? You're not an afterthought to me. I had a chance at him but I preferred to be with you! Can't you see that?
But Harry didn't seem to see anything but his coffee-cup; he appeared to be reading the dregs--or at least the confetti the cherub kept tossing at them.
From the moment Harry mentioned Hermione's name, something new began building inside Cho. It was a version of herself, yet it was a very different Cho: not merely jealous but spitefully so, prepared to say or do anything, no matter how hurtful, if she felt threatened. And she felt threatened now.
And Cho felt threatened by this spiteful alien within her. She tried to shove it aside, but Madam Puddifoot's wasn't offering much by way of distraction: there was Harry, who looked utterly confused, and then there were Roger and Annabella, who looked as if they were about to tear each other's robes off and perform some kind of act impossible to do on the shop's tiny tables...
Back to Harry, then, who looked at Cho as if she really were some sort of alien being. Why had she brought him here? What did she know of such places?
Every fancy, every daydream she had entertained about Harry since, well, two years ago, maybe longer, was fading away. Very well, she decided; this may be the last chance I ever get to ask him directly, and a Seeker takes her chances when they occur:
"I came in here with ... Cedric last year."
At least one thing went as expected. She knew her mention of Cedric would hit Harry like a body-blow. Not that the unfeeling little git didn't deserve it, muttered the spiteful alien within her. But it hit her, too, being reminded of happier times, with someone who understood her, understood the world, understood so many things she had never known before... She started to lose her composure, as she knew she would, and she no longer cared, in her rush to finally, finally ask Harry the one question she never had answered: had Cedric, in the final hours before his death, forgiven Cho for their argument--the last time they had spoken?
"I've been meaning to ask you for ages." Her voice started cracking, her eyes started tearing up again. Cho no longer cared. This was her last and only chance. "Did Cedric ... did he ..." She started breaking down, but not before saying the words out loud for the first, possibly last, time: "mention me at all before he died?"
She could see the pain of the memory on Harry's face; well, let it hurt him! Maybe he'll realize that I've been hurt, too!
Harry, looking more tormented than Cho had seen since she saw him having the nightmare about his mother being killed, could hardly bring himself to look at Cho. "Well, no. There ... there wasn't time for him to say anything."
No. One word, and this last living link to Cedric's final hours was gone.
"Erm..."
No, wait; he had more to say...
"So, do you ... do you get to see a lot of Quidditch in the holidays? You support the Tornadoes, right?"
This was one of Cho's nightmares come to life. He wanted to talk about Quidditch?! Damn Quidditch--this was about a human being! A friend of theirs!
"Look," Harry leaned closer, practically murmuring in her ear, "let's not talk about Cedric right now. Let's talk about something else."
At this point, Cho lost control of everything. She forgot everything she'd talked about with the Muggle grief counselor, with Penelope Clearwater, with Marietta. She forgot every lesson her parents had tried to teach her about growing up Chinese in an Anglo country--especially the part about not showing your emotions. Cho was filled with nothing but emotions now, and those emotions poured out of her mouth as tears started to pour out of her eyes.
"I thought-- I thought you'd understand: I NEED to talk about it! Surely, you need to talk about it, too! I mean, you saw it happen, didn't you?"
Harry looked at her as if she were a basilisk, then tried to get her to calm down. "Well, I have talked about it, to Ron and Hermione and--"
At the mention of Hermione's name--a Gryffindor girl, Cho seemed to hear her mother say, and a WHITE girl--the spiteful new demon in Cho took control. "Oh! You'll talk to Hermione Granger, but you won't talk to me! Perhaps it would be best if we just-- just paid and you went and met up with Hermione Granger, like you obviously want to!"
Cho took a napkin, holding it to her eyes, sobbing into it, trying to wipe the tears from her face, apparently unaware that she had shouted loud enough at Harry--in a crowded coffee shop, no less--to briefly drown out the rain hammering on the windows.
Harry, for his part, gaped like a stunned troll, and could only manage the word, "Cho?"
Perhaps she'd forgotten he was still there until he spoke; this only provoked Cho to attack him yet again. "Go on! Leave! I don't know why you asked me out in the first place if you're going to make arrangements to meet other girls right after me!" She couldn't help what came next: the spiteful demon urged her to twist the knife she'd already plunged into Harry. "How many are you meeting AFTER Hermione?!"
Harry rallied to his own defense: "It's not like that!" And gave a nervous chuckle.
Cho was on her feet at once. He thinks this is funny ... He thinks this is FUNNY!!!
"I'll ... see you around, Harry!"
xxx
Just as the sun was setting, there was a knock at the door to the hospital wing. Cho had awakened a few minutes before, feeling better, so Madam Pomfrey opened the door.
Marietta.
She walked over to the neighboring bed and sat down on it as if they were back in the Ravenclaw Common Room. She didn't say anything at first, but looked quietly at Cho.
Cho felt her cheeks start to burn. "Tell me the worst of it, then. I'm sure everyone thinks I'm the most foolish witch in Hogwarts."
"Well, I don't know about everyone, but a couple of Fourth Years were having a laugh at your expense last night. Roger put a stop to that."
"Roger?"
"Just an oblique threat; nothing that a Prefect or Flitwick could take points for, but he made it plain that you're not to be teased about yesterday."
"I wish yesterday had never happened."
"It's a shame, since you wanted it so badly. Exactly what happened?"
"I ... don't want to talk about it. Not just yet."
"Ah. Well, are you caught up on your assignments?"
"Of course; got caught up Friday night. Typical Ravenclaw," Cho smiled sadly.
Marietta smiled, too. "Pomfrey says you're here for another night. Can I get you anything?"
"No, just--sit with me for a while."
Marietta sat by Cho's bed for another thirty minutes, before she had to go attend a Prefects' Meeting. They didn't speak for most of that time, but Cho felt that, somehow, they communicated more than the stretches of silence had with Harry...
Harry, who hadn't inquired about her; Harry, who was probably somewhere with Hermione Granger.
As soon as Marietta left, Cho reseolved never to speak to Harry Potter again.
Within ten minutes, she was crying into her pillow. She had tried to cast him out of her heart, but the pain was too great.
xxx
That night, Cho Chang dreamed of a completely deserted Hogsmeade. All of the shops were open but unattended. Nobody was there. Fires burned in the hearths, but otherwise there were no signs of life.
The absence of people, the silence--it was more frightening than any monster could have been. Having come to the end of town and found nobody there, she ran back.
There! She saw two people on the platform: Harry and Hermione Granger. They were just standing there, casually chatting, as if the town hadn't suddenly lost everyone. They seemed to be waiting for the train to take them back to London.
Harry looked at Cho, with no emotion on his face at all. Hermione opened her mouth to speak:
"HEM HEM!"
Cho's eyes flew open and her body froze beneath the covers. That voice wasn't a dream!
The sun had gone down; it was night-time, but Cho didn't know what time it was. Still, why was Umbridge at the door to the hospital wing, talking with Madam Pomfrey?
"Such a big school, so many things needing my attention," said Madam Umbridge in that mincing voice of hers, talking through the door that Madam Pomfrey had opened just a crack.
"That's as may be, Madam Inquisitor," Pomfrey answered back coolly. "However, I have a sick student here and your visit is a distraction. It might even make things worse. Please understand that she needs MY attention."
"Ah. Case proving a bit too difficult for you, eh?"
"Madam Inquisitor," Pomfrey interrupted, "this school has a very long history, and students have on occasion died at Hogwarts. I'm sure you don't want that to happen on your watch. Now, please, leave me to my work!" Without another word she closed the door in Umbridge's face.
As Pomfrey walked past the beds, Cho called out, as loudly as her weakened state would permit her: "Madam Pomfrey?"
"Yes, my dear?"
"I ... I heard just now," Cho said, tears starting to form in her eyes. "Does this mean I'm ... going to die?"
"Ah, no, child," Pomfrey smiled, sitting on the bed and stroking Cho's forehead. "I didn't mean to distress you. I just had to say something to get rid of that--that--" She either couldn't find a word to describe Umbridge or didn't want to utter it in Cho's presence.
"But it's going to be all right," Cho started to speak again.
"Of course it is, but only if you get a good night's sleep tonight. Then a dose of Arbuthnot's Appetite Enhancement Elixir before you go down to breakfast and you'll be ready to greet the day. But first you need to get back to sleep. Not enough sleep and not enough to eat; that's what knocked out your resistance. I'll check up on you in a few minutes." With that, she rose and went back to the end of the wing.
I meant about Umbridge, Cho thought as she turned over in bed. It'll be all right; the Army will see to that. We're getting stronger, stronger than we ever would have been before Umbridge came here. All thanks to Harry--
Then she remembered: Harry Potter was the last person she wanted to think about. She fluffed up her pillow rather violently, and tried to get back to sleep.
xxx
to be continued in part 22, wherein Cho watches Gryffindor's new Seeker, and finds out (along with the rest of the wizarding world) what really happened on the night of the Third Task ...