This is a quick update because I thought I'd surprise you all, and just make your week (hopefully) better!
(Author's notes)
Emphasis/thoughts/spells
Letter/emphasis in thoughts
Emphasis
Chapter 5: Notice on the Quidditch stands
I can only wonder how touching you would make me feel. –Selena, in 'I can fall in love'.
Harry stretched, his arms reaching out to the sunshine. He looked around him, and realized that everyone was still sleeping.
He'd always been an early waker.
Back at the Dursleys, he'd wake up early just so that he would be able to enjoy an hour or so, where there would be utter peace and quiet.
Now he did it so that he had time to think. To feel alive.
He dressed, then proceeded to wander the castle.
He stopped, just gotten out the still-sleeping portrait's door. Making a three-second decision, he went back to his dorm and grabbed his broomstick.
Might as well, he thought, exiting the portrait hole once more. I haven't flown for quite a while.
A figure came out of the shadows. Silently, it crept across the corridors, noiselessly following the green-eyed boy who'd just turned the corner.
Walking out into the quidditch field, Harry felt some of the pressures melt away.
Reaching one of the goal posts, he closed his eyes, then opened them.
And then, he was in free air.
Shadowed eyes watched as Harry took to the broom.
He loved watching Harry fly.
Ebony hair flipped softly in the wind, as broomstick and rider cart-wheeled through the sky.
He sighed in envy. Even as Harry rode into swirls and downward spirals, he still exuded a grace that any seeker –let alone him– could not copy.
The sun began to rise, and Harry and broom began to make their descent.
Green eyes radiated bliss, as Harry touched down.
I can only hope I can give you as much joy.
Harry ran towards the quidditch stands. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten it. He ran, his breaths coming in pants. Slowly, he reached the field, now darkened by dusk.
Quickly, he searched. Puzzled, he went through the stands once, twice. Desperately, he searched again.
Where was it?
Suddenly, an idea hit him. Quickly, he took out the necklace his admirer had given him the week before.
Immediately the charm lit up, giving light into the darkest corners.
"Trouvfindras." A map appeared, a light blinking on a certain spot behind the stands.
Harry breathed a smile of relief.
Quickly he made his way behind the Gryffindor stands. Spotting the scarf, he promptly ran towards it. Picking it up, he frowned. He was sure he'd just thrown it on the seats that morning.
Certainly it couldn't get folded, cleaned and put behind the stands by itself…
He looked at it suspiciously.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a white scroll of paper.
Recognizing the elegant ribbon wrapped around it, he grabbed the scroll easily.
Impatiently, he unraveled the delicate piece, his fingers tracing the lines.
'Dear Harry,
How have you been? I hope my presents have helped you.
My heart aches for you…it cries in my chest as I write. But I know that you will survive, for your heart, although it has cracks, does not break easily –and we will fuse those hairline fractures.
Your latest present is on a tree.
Where red, red flowers grow that crowned thy friend.
Into the forest, thee I send…
Your latest riddle. I shall envy my present –for I can only wonder how touching you would make me feel…
Do not sleep so late for tomorrow's match…
Love,
Your admirer…'
A single finger stopped, circling around one of the last words. A soft smile spread over Harry's face. Quickly, he scanned the letter once more, fingers fiddling with the necklace as he read the second line. Eyes lingered over the last few sentences full of care and affection.
After a while, he set off towards the forest –after all, it wouldn't do to 'sleep late' against his admirer's commands.
Walking into the Forbidden Forest, he scanned around.
Trees near red flowers, trees near red flowers.
"Trouvfindras! "
His shoulders slumped with despair. There were almost half a thousand lights on the map.
And it was only the outer edges of the Forest.
Well he can't possibly want me to go so deep…there's so many things out there…
He looked at the map yet again.
'Crowned thy friend'?
He looked around him. There was quince, evening primroses and red Columbines, and even bauhinia blossoms seemed to sport a glowing scarlet.
I wonder if Dumbledore treats this as his personal 'wild garden' of if the ground is especially fertile, he thought dryly.
Then he spotted them.
Red roses clung onto an old, old oak tree, wrapping its branches like ivy onto the trunk and branches. From faraway, it looked like the tree was literally growing roses.
Hermione had had a wine coloured rose wreath at the last school dance. Coupled with a simple white gown, she had looked like the Queen Winter.
Ron had gaped, only breathing fully when Harry had knocked him a solid one on his back –right into Hermione s waiting arms.
It was Harry's turn to gape now.
A black velvet ribbon hung from one of the half blooms, a single white box tied at the end.
In awe, he touched the ribbon. The knot unraveled, and present and rose fell neatly into his palm.
Eagerly, yet gently, he untied the box. He gasped.
Inside, nestled in soft, soft cotton, was the most beautiful pair of gloves that Harry had seen in all his life. Dark brown, so dark they were almost black to the fleeting eye.
How had he known?
Harry's gloves had been getting rather worse for wear, and after their last match, where the Hufflepuffs had been surprisingly vicious, they now hung in tatters.
It was just in time, too. Slytherin s match was tomorrow.
Carefully, Harry replaced the gloves in the cotton. The lid closed, and the ribbon refolded itself.
He walked back to the castle with a smile.
"All I want for you is to try your best," Harry said, finally.
"Alright team? Let's go!" The team cheered, and they went outside.
"Go Harry! Go, Ron!" Ron blushed, and waved, recognizing his girlfriend's voice.
Harry chuckled. Suddenly, the cheers went down, an inferno of whispers replacing the roar.
Harry didn't have to look to know what had happened. He faced forward calmly, as the Slytherin team approached.
The players stood in place.
Ms Hooch said her introduction and warnings to the game.
"Now no foul playing," she finished. "On your brooms!" Everyone but the captains obeyed.
"Captains shake hands!" Harry stood forward. Amongst the Slytherins, one platinum blonde stepped out.
Harry was looking into Draco Malfoy's eyes yet again.
For a moment, something flickered in those eyes, and there was a tightening of hands…
Then they stepped back…
The game had begun.
Harry closed his eyes momentarily, the wind ruffling his hair. Then he opened his eyes, focusing…
Behind him, there was a movement in air, and he knew that Draco was behind him.
"Nice gloves."
Harry spun around, ready with a retort on his tongue –after all, even though Draco wasn't his enemy, it didn't mean that it would stop their arguments anytime soon.
Draco s eyes were full of sincerity.
Harry stared in surprise.
Draco smiled.
To others, it would probably have been more like a smirk, but Harry knew better.
Draco was smiling.
It was such a shock that Harry almost missed the snitch some metres away.
In a flash, he was after it, with Draco right on his heels.
They spun, and spiraled, a blur of red and green, silver and gold; opposite –yet the same.
Finally, Harry emerged, the snitch in his hand.
Gryffindor cheered.
For Gryffindor had won.
Harry went to bed, tired limbs making a beeline for the fluffy quilt that Hermione had made for his last birthday.
He looked at the curtains, and grinned for a reason he had yet to know of.
He feel asleep.
He dreamed of grey eyes…
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