Okay... three. I know it seems to be moving rather slowly... but be patient... we're getting there...

CQ


Chapter Nine: Chasers

October passed and November too. The Quidditch Season was due to begin on the last Saturday in November, with a game between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Surprisingly, Hufflepuff managed to win, an unheard-of victory over the Slytherins, and excitement ran high. The next game, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, was scheduled for early December, and Harry's team trained hard. If Hufflepuff had fielded that good a team this year, chances were strong that they would split the available points, bringing the Slytherin and Ravenclaw averages down. Ravenclaw would be fighting hard to win this game.

And Harry had yet to find another Chaser as good as Ginny and Amanda. Or even close.

However, on the first of December, the focus was quickly shifted away from Quidditch. At dinner, Dumbledore stood and smiled at the students as they quieted.

"I have a lovely announcement to make," he started, a twinkle in his eye. "This year, we will be holding, on the twentieth, a Yule Ball..."

The silence ended with excited chattering and distinctly male groans.

"The twentieth is a Saturday and the following day, those who have elected to return home for the holidays will be leaving. As for previous events of this nature, it will be open to fourth years and above only... and their guests, of course. Now, feel free to return to your meal."

The moment he sat, the noise level increased substantially with talk of the ball. Harry glanced across the table at Ron's white face, then down at the rather prettier redhead seated beside himself.

"Um... Ginny?" he stammered. She was his girlfriend, for Merlin's sake! Why couldn't he just ask her without feeling so nervous?

"What?" Ginny looked up at him, an eyebrow cocked questioningly.

"Will you?" he managed to choke out.

"Will I what, Harry?" Ginny honestly looked confused.

"I mean... the Yule Ball, will you..."

Ginny looked pleased, but turned her sparkling eyes on him. "Am I to understand, Mr Potter, that in your rather awkward way, you're attempting to ask me to the Ball?"

"Umm... yes?" He flushed self-consciously.

"I don't know... I don't think I have a thing to wear," she laughed.

"But..." Harry, confused, thought of the new dress robes he'd bought her in Madame Malkins that summer.

"Harry?"

"I..."

"Harry, I'm teasing. I'm surprised that you felt you needed to ask. Of course I'll go with you. I'd love to go with you."

"Well... that's... alright then. Right?"

"Right," she giggled, pulling him into her arms and kissing him soundly.

Looking up again, Harry saw Ron swallowing nervously and glancing surreptitiously at Hermione.

"Umm... Hermione?" Ron choked out.

Harry grinned. He was going to do it. He was really going to do it. The bloody git was finally going to ask Hermione out.

"Yes, Ron?" Hermione turned, her eyes bright.

"Would you... would you..."

"Ron?"

"Would you pass the salt, please?"

Harry sighed. Perhaps he'd had rather too much faith in Ron's sensitivity, once again.

Hermione, however, swallowed, passed the salt, then, with a funny little breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob, got up and left the Great Hall as quickly as she could go without running.

"You're a prat, Ron," Ginny said in a low voice before getting up and following her friend.

"I..." Ron looked at Harry, his eyes desperately looking for... something.

"You just flubbed up a perfect opportunity, mate," Harry sighed. "And I think you even managed to make her cry. Good one."

"But I.."

"Ron... figure out what you want, and if you don't want her, then fine, but stop playing with her," Harry said sharply, the low tone of his voice doing nothing to dispel the anger there.

"What?"

"You walk her to class, you study with her all the time, if she sits down in the Common Room, you do too. She gets up, you follow her. Wherever she is, there you are. If you don't want her to think that there is more there than there actually is, then stop it. If you do... well, I'm not sure you're going to have much of a chance now, but if you do, I suggest you get your backside up to the the Gryffindor Tower, beg her to forgive you, and then ask her to the bloody Ball!"

With that, Harry stood and followed Ginny.


Harry was standing over the two girls where they were seated together in one of the large armchairs in the corner of the Common Room. Hermione had resisted comforting until Ginny had dragged her into her arms and held her. At which point, she'd begun to sob. Harry, being uncomfortable with crying witches at the best of times, managed to turn the chair to face the wall so that others wouldn't witness Hermione's pain as they returned from dinner, and stood watch, glaring at anyone who looked as though they might approach, or even attempt to walk through that corner of the room.

And amazingly, he became more and more angry with his best friend. As Hermione sobbed into Ginny's shoulder, Harry felt a familiar rage beginning inside him. But it was strange, because this time it wasn't directed at Voldemort or Death Eaters, or even a member of the Dursley family. This time, it was directed at someone he cared about... someone who had been as close as a brother for years.

Someone he loved.

The portrait hole opened, and Harry stiffened. Ron stepped through, looking very self-conscious.

"Harry... I..."

"Not now, Ron," Harry said, warningly. He could feel the rage building up, and he really, really, really didn't want to let loose.

Hermione would kill him. And Ginny... he shuddered at the thought.

"I... I need to talk to her," Ron nodded at the chair in the corner.

Harry glared at him, then stalked toward him, pushing a hand into the chest of his best friend. Ron topped him by a good four inches, but Harry wasn't intimidated in the least. He was furious.

"If you hurt her again, I swear to Merlin, Ron, you will regret it. I swear it," he bit out in a low voice, so the others in the room couldn't hear. There were, he noticed, several looks, but Harry found that he didn't really care.

Ron swallowed again, then nodded.

"Ginny," Harry said, his eyes not leaving the sparkling blue ones of his best friend.

Ginny gently helped Hermione wipe her tears and compose herself, then, at Hermione's assurance that she was fine, and her rather self-conscious blush at her own behaviour, Ginny stood.

She glared at Ron for a moment, and Harry was surprised to see Ron nod, as though they'd communicated without words.

Which they probably had.

Harry took her hand and pulled her close, watching carefully as Ron edged around the chair.

"I'll bloody kill him if he makes her cry again," Harry whispered into Ginny's hair.

"He might, but I think they'll be happy tears, Harry," Ginny whispered back. "Give him a chance."


"Mione?" Ron came to kneel in front of where she sat. Her hands were curled around a hankie... probably Harry's... and her shoulders still shook occasionally with a sob. She didn't look up.

"Please don't call me that anymore," she whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because..." she sighed. "Please... just don't."

"Okay..." Ron crouched in front of her. She still wouldn't meet his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" she asked.

"For being a complete prat."

"You're not," Hermione denied, tears springing to the eyes that still wouldn't meet his. "I'm sorry for embarrassing you... I..."

"Embarrassing me?" Ron looked confused. "What are you on about?"

"For... for..."

"You didn't embarrass me, Hermione. You... Well, I'm just sorry that you... were hurt."

"It's my own fault, Ron... I shouldn't have..." She took a deep breath, composing herself and looking much more like the Hermione that Ron knew. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to embarrass you... or myself."

"I've been a right git, haven't I?" he asked. "I've not seen what I was doing to you."

"It's just that I thought..."

"Rightly so. Perhaps I'm not so dense as I thought," Ron agreed. "Or maybe you're just even smarter than I gave you credit for."

"What?" Hermione's eyes met his. Tear-filled as they were, they still managed to communicate her curiousity.

"I've been trailing about after you... I... I didn't want to come right out and... well, tell you how I felt."

"Why not?"

"Because you might not feel the same for me, Hermione. I... I was frightened."

She took another deep breath and looked at him. "Ron, how do you feel about me?"

Ron hesitated, then nodded, as though agreeing with himself about something. "I think... I think... I really like you, Hermione. I... I think there's more than that, too... but..."

"I feel the same way, Ron," she said flatly. "I have since second year."

"Second year?" Ron looked stunned. "You're joking?"

"I would never joke about something like this, Ron. Trust me."

Ron nodded, then looked closely at her. "I'm sorry for making you cry."

"I'm fine," she said.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Will you... I mean... would you consider..." he took a breath. "You told me in fourth year that, next time, I needed to be quicker to ask you..."

"Yes?"

"Is this quick enough? I mean... Hermione, will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

She smiled. "Of course I will."


Harry was sitting in Charms with Professor Flitwick early one Thursday morning when there was a rather hurried knock on the door. Waving his wand at it, the tiny Professor opened the door to reveal Professor McGonagall there.

"Professor McGonagall, what a pleasant surprise..."

"I just needed to borrow Potter, if it is convenient, Professor Flitwick?"

"Of course... of course... Potter?"

Harry, mildly concerned, glanced down at Ron, who shrugged, then headed to the door.

"Bring your things, Harry," McGonagall said.

Harry, curious and a little alarmed, turned and grabbed his bag and books, and left.

"Professor?" he turned to her as the door closed behind him. "Something wrong?"

"Harry, this seems rather familiar, somehow," she smiled, stepping to the side. "Harry... I have found us a Chaser."

"Professor?" Harry smiled, in mind of the same scene six years before.

"I was watching out my window, Harry," she said as she turned and set a frightening pace down the corridor. "And Hagrid's class was working in the field... and... well, you'll see. If he can do it from a broom... well..."

"Professor?" Harry nearly had to run to keep up.

"A first year, Harry... tossing a ball about... and right into a bucket a dozen yards away... where he got the ball... and I suppose I should be upset, because I really do think that they're supposed to be feeding those creatures of Hagrid's, but..."

"A first year?" Harry asked doubtfully.

McGonagall turned dancing eyes to him. "I remember another first year..."

"But... that was for Seeker... Chasers have to be..."

"Not necessarily... if they're quick enough. Look."

Harry looked out a window over the field below. There were several students working about, obviously trying to feed something. But one of the students, a boy, was tossing and retrieving a rather large ball...

"A basketball..." Harry breathed.

"A what?"

"The ball that he's tossing into the bucket... it's a muggle game. Called basketball."

McGonagall snorted, then looked back down. "Come. We've found our Chaser, I believe."

"Could be," Harry agreed absently, still watching as he moved away after the professor.

They made their way down and out the east doors of the school, Harry trying to keep pace with an obviously very excited McGonagall.

"Hagrid?" she called as they neared.

"Perfessor McGonagall..." Hagrid looked up and blushed, glancing about to be sure that all his students were doing as they were supposed to.

"Hagrid... might I... might I borrow Stevens for a moment?"

"Stevens?" Hagrid looked at the boy and shrugged. "'course, Perfessor. Oi! Stevens!"

"Thank you, Hagrid... I'll have him back shortly."

"'Arry," Hagrid nodded his greeting. "Do come down for a bit of tea soon, will you? 'Aven't seen you in a unicorn's age."

"I will, Hagrid," Harry nodded. "Seventh year is a lot busier than I expected it to be. This weekend?"

"Lovely, I'll make some cakes!"

Harry nodded and winced, knowing that that would probably mean a chipped tooth by Sunday, and then following McGonagall over to where she'd led Stevens.

"Hello," Harry nodded to the younger student. He was small...

...but not as small as I was, Harry thought.

"You're... Harry Potter," the boy stammered, his face pale and his deep blue eyes wide as he looked up at the seventh year Gryffindor Seeker standing looking down at him.

"I am," Harry nodded, then looked meaningfully between the ball and the bucket the younger boy had been tossing it into from a good twenty feet away. "You play basketball?"

"I... yes... I..."

"You're muggleborn?" Harry turned green eyes back to the boy.

"Yes," there was a spark in the younger boy's eyes as he seemed to stand taller.

"Don't take that the wrong way," Harry looked at him. "One of my best friends is muggleborn."

Stevens glanced down at the ball in his hands, embarrassed.

"You're not very tall for basketball..."

"I... they were just teaching us at school at the end of last term..." the younger boy stammered. "I didn't know... well... no one knew, really... that I wouldn't be going on with the rest of my mates to the community school... I brought my ball with me."

"Hmm..." McGonagall eyed the ball suspiciously, an eyebrow raised doubtfully as she glanced at Harry, then nodded.

"That's okay, isn't it? I mean..."

"It's fine, it's fine..." Harry nodded, looking down at the ball that the boy was now nervously spinning between his hands.

"I..." Stevens glanced nervously at McGonagall again, and then back to Harry. "What's this about then?"

"Can you get it in that bucket over there... from here?" Harry asked, knowing he could.

Stevens looked oddly at him, and then nodded. "Sure..."

With a whoosh, he tossed the ball into the bucket which was sitting a good dozen feet away. There was a bit of a splash as the water in the bucket was displaced.

"Tell me, Stevens..." Harry smiled. "Do you think you could do that from a broom?"