Disclaimer: SHArice doesn't own Harry Potter.
Author's Note: This is the longest chapter I have written so far. This part of our little mystery features more "quality bonding and quiet time" between our two favorite Seekers.
Also, I want to thank my first several reviewers. Your input has helped me get over a slight writer's block over the past couple days.
As usual reviews are welcome. Happy reading!
ooooooo
The Melody of the Sphere
Chapter Four: Fresh Wounds Heal the Slowest
Thunder shook the sky and lightning split the ground as another storm picked up. Two beds were occupied in the Hospital Wing after the first day of classes at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Professor McGonagall, Tonks, and Madam Pomfrey were talking in hushed voices. Another person, a boy with red hair looked over at his best friend lying unconscious in bed.
"What happened, Mr. Weasley?" Professor McGonagall asked the red-headed boy.
Ron shook his head. "I don't know, Professor. He just fell asleep and a little while later, he started mumbling something."
"Did you hear what he was saying?" Tonks inquired.
"No, it was too slurred. He started yelling and fell over on the floor. We all thought it was a nightmare…"
"Until you saw these," McGonagall finished, motioning to Harry. His chest and torso were wrapped in bandages, stained by blood in two places where wounds were still open.
"Can't you heal them, Madam Pomfrey?" Ron asked the school's healer.
"I tried," the woman answered gravely, "but they won't go away. The bleeding hasn't stopped either."
"What sort of magic is this?" Tonks thought out loud.
"Dark magic, that is," Madam Pomfrey whispered.
The three witches were at a loss for words. When it came to matters of Dark magic, Harry Potter wasn't far behind in the conversation. His history had always been intertwined with the darkest of all wizards, Lord Voldemort, so finding him wounded after a nightmare wasn't too uncommon. However, it was uncommon when the wounds refused to be healed.
"Ronald," Professor McGonagall said at long last, "does this mean anything to you?" She held up Harry's broken sphere. Its center was dull and no light radiated off its once bright surface.
He shrugged. "He kept it from one of our trips to Diagon Alley."
"How did he get it?" Tonks asked, taking the sphere from McGonagall.
"Told us he broke it and had to pay for it. Besides, it doesn't even work. He just likes to carry it around. I suppose it symbolic for him in a way."
McGonagall and Tonks nodded. The Transfiguration professor looked over at the bed next to the young wizard's. Curtains were drawn around it, hiding the student who was suffering the same pain as Harry. Professor Binns had brought Cho Chang in just a few minutes before Ron and Professor Trelawny came in bearing a pale Harry Potter lying on a levitating stretcher. The witch returned her attention to the boy lying in the bed. Blood was flowing from just below his heart and on his right side. The crimson stains on his bandages seemed to spread with every raspy breath.
Ron stared at his best friend. The last time he had seen him this banged up was after their expedition into the Department of Mysteries. He didn't want Harry to suffer anymore pain, but he had a destiny to fulfill, and Ron would follow him to whatever end. Voldemort would have to suffer the wrath of Ronald Weasley for the sorrow he had brought to those he loved.
"Ronald." He turned to face Professor Dumbledore. The Headmaster's long silver beard and half-moon spectacles were an assuring sight after looking at his bed-ridden friend. Dumbledore had never failed to insure the security of the magical world. Ron sighed and tried his best to look strong for Harry's sake. Dumbledore had a slight twinkle in his eyes as he said, "You may leave. I'm sure Miss Granger is concerned about your whereabouts."
"Yes, sir." Ron didn't want to become a nuisance for the old wizard. He looked back at Harry. Hang on, mate. He nodded at his professors and left.
"Minerva, please see if Miss Chang is awake," said Dumbledore. McGonagall, without a word of protest or hesitation, left the Headmaster with Harry.
Professor Dumbledore pulled up a chair next to the bed. The young boy he had always seen end up in the Hospital Wing's beds was now a young man. Dumbledore let a small smile escape his lips as he remembered eleven-year old Harry Potter waking up after his encounter with Voldemort. He was so tiny and fragile back then, just barely ready for future encounters with the Dark Lord. Now, about four years later, he was changing into an adult.
The old wizard bowed his head. "I'm so sorry, dear boy. I thought you would have at least one year of peace at Hogwarts. But it's foolish of me to think that…especially with the prophecy yet to be fulfilled. I don't know what this world would do with you Harry. You're everyone's beacon of hope; our last shred of light in this dark time. Come back to us, Harry. Be strong and return. This world needs you."
"Albus?" Professor McGonagall broke the Headmaster's thoughts.
"Yes, Minerva? How is she?"
"It seems Miss Chang has the same type of wounds inflicted on her. Poppy doesn't know what could have caused them, but she and Nymphadora are investigating."
o o o o o o o
"When do you suppose he's going to wake up?"
A voice.
"Don't know."
Another one.
"Sorry I couldn't tell you when we brought him here. Professor McGonagall wanted to find out what happened."
It sounded familiar. Ron?
"It's all right…at least he's still breathing."
Hermione?
Harry cracked his eyes open a bit. He could make out two blurred figures sitting beside him. He knew without question they were Ron and Hermione, even if their backs were facing him. So many questions were swimming through his head. What had happened? Where was he? He heard Hermione speak.
"Should we tell him about Cho?"
Cho…? Oh, no! Cho! The awful memory of having to watch her die came rushing at him like a horse-drawn cart. Harry tried talking, but his throat constricted and burned. He let out a loud grunt. His voice was lost to the pain that he felt. Breathing was hard and hearing Hermione shriek with joy followed by Ron coughing up a chocolate frog was hurting his head.
"Harry! Oh, Harry!" Hermione threw her arms around him, immediately forgetting the condition he was in. "We thought we'd lost you for good!"
Let me go, Harry thought, mentally pleading with her to let go of his aching side.
Ron just stood there, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. No words needed to be spoken between the two friends. They knew how much the other meant to them. Harry silently communicated his wish for Hermione to release him and Ron answered, "He's hurt, Hermione."
"Oh! I'm so sorry, Harry." Hermione let go and instead placed her hand on his…gently. She began a long talk about how the professors were worried and the students were spreading the usual tall tales of Harry being a spy for Voldemort. Harry's thoughts drifted off elsewhere. He had noticed that he was attached to some sort of tube by his wrist, which connected to a bag filled with what appeared to be blood. What was going on?
"Madam Pomfrey says you'll be on Muggle medication for a while," Ron stated. Apparently his shocked expression had caught attention.
Hermione broke away somewhere about Trelawny's prediction and Tonks' investigation. "Somehow you suffered a couple wounds, which, up to this point, are incurable by magical means. We've had to resort to other means to keep you alive."
Harry wished he had his voice to use, but his throat and rest of his body was aching and throbbing. It felt like fire was ablaze in his mouth, throat, and lungs. His upper body felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. A very large sledgehammer. Harry motioned for his glasses and Hermione placed them on his face. Everything came back into focus. He was definitely in the Hospital Wing by the looks of the empty beds and white curtains hanging open around his space.
"You know you gave us quite a scare," Ron said, opening another chocolate frog, "but then again, I should have expected that having Harry Potter as my best friend." Ron chuckled and popped the poor amphibian in his mouth.
"I suppose you want to know what happened, then?" Hermione asked.
Harry just nodded. The last thing he remembered was watching Cho's eyes grow dull as death claimed her and the darkness that had consumed him. After that, the world was an endless void of black.
"Well…you drifted off in Divinations," Ron began, "and started talking in your sleep. (No I didn't understand what you were saying!) No body heard, but then you started yelling…" Ron drifted off and looked intently at Hermione. She glared at him, but Ron looked like he didn't want to continue.
She sighed. "You started yelling Cho's name. Ron told me you fell on the floor and didn't get up, and then when they lifted you onto a stretcher, you were bleeding. Madam Pomfrey inspected your wounds and there is no way you could have gotten those without some advanced form of magic." Hermione paused, letting Harry soak everything in before continuing, "She couldn't heal them. It's like they have some protective barrier against other forms of magic, so she started some Muggle methods. This is just to make sure you don't bleed to death. You lost a lot of blood from those wounds of yours."
"They're slowly healing now and Madam Pomfrey says you can get out of here in a month or so depending on your condition," Ron blurted out happily.
Harry still couldn't find his voice. His energy was slowly draining and he was desperate to find out what happened to Cho. He looked around his curtained off area and his eyes landed on Hermione's pile of books and parchment at the foot of his bed. He looked up at Hermione. "Can you talk?" she asked.
Harry looked at her like she was idiot and shook his head.
"Don't give me that look, Harry," she scolded him. "Do you need something?"
Harry heard Ron mumble something like "Yeah, less time with you." He moved his gaze toward her book pile. She scrunched her face up in puzzlement. Harry lifted his right hand with difficulty and pointed. It hurt to move his arms; a broken rib limited his mobility. Hermione turned back and asked, "You want to write something?"
Harry could only nod. Ron handed her a spare piece of parchment and quill before opening another chocolate frog.
Hermione handed him the quill and placed a bottle of ink and the parchment on his thighs. "Take it slowly Harry," she instructed him, "We have time."
He willed his hand to dip the quill in the ink, and then moved it over the parchment. The letter D was slowly scrawled, followed by an A, then a Y, and finally a question mark. Harry didn't think writing could be so hard. It felt like he was learning to write the alphabet all over again.
"Day?" Ron looked at the word he had written. "Well, mate, it's Saturday." Harry's eyes went wide. It was already Saturday! That meant he had been out for almost a week.
"Don't look so surprised, Harry," Hermione chimed in, "With the injuries you sustained, I wouldn't be surprised if you were out for two months."
Harry closed his eyes and started his next one-word question. "Cho," Hermione whispered. "You want to know what happened to her?"
He nodded vigorously. "How would you know about her?" Ron asked. "You were out cold when she was brought in."
Hermione cut him off with an outstretched palm. "Harry, Cho is also here. The same thing happened to her. Madam Pomfrey can't heal her either, but unlike you, she hasn't woken up yet." Harry began to worry and his pulse quickened. As it did, he finally took note of a rapid beeping noise beside him. A box with jagged-looking lines running across its screen was the source of the annoying beeping. In a few seconds Madam Pomfrey came rushing to his bedside.
"Miss Granger, what happened here?" the old Healer asked.
"We told him about Cho Chang, madam. He's just very worried about her."
"Very well," she replied sternly, "I believe it's time for you and Mr. Weasley to join your house for lunch. I have to give Mr. Potter here a sleeping draft."
"We'll see you later, Harry," said Ron as Madam Pomfrey shooed him and Hermione out. Harry smiled, but frowned the second the school healer turned around and held up the bitter-tasting potion.
o o o o o o o
The village was under attack. Cho automatically responded as she hastily made her friends leave her home and stepped out into the street. Her white gown was an immaculate light against her dark surroundings. The sound of battle was still far off from the village square. The villagers could probably hold them off for another fifteen or so minutes, but the army's sheer size and force would be hard to defend against. They would have to flee their hometown.
She heard footsteps in the distance. Scouts! People were screaming, the smell of blood and smoke filled her nostrils, she could feel the hairs rising on the back of her neck, her mouth had gone dry, and the sight of young and old men charging into a hopeless battle made her want to cry. But now was the not for tears. She had to help, but anything she did would be futile. Even getting people out in time didn't guarantee them escaping the soldiers' pursuit.
She needed to find anyone who was still in the village, apart from the fighters, and get them out, but the streets were empty and dark. They most likely had already left and were heading for the mountains where they could find a temporary hiding place. The young woman was still determined not to leave anybody behind and began running along one of the main streets, listening for any soldiers that might have gotten past their defenses and turning in the opposite direction when she heard them.
Footsteps. She stopped in her place and listened. It sounded like they were alone. She saw a dark figure run past the corner where she was hiding. He looked around and seemed lost. He turned toward her so she could see his face. Cho gasped. The man was dressed in a dark velvet robe; silver trimmings and knee-high boots gave him an aristocratic air. But what she focused on was his face. It was Harry, but without glasses. His hair was long and drawn back in a ponytail. His eyes were intense and darted around, making sure he was alone. He turned back to look down an alley. She could hear more footsteps in the distance. People were following him.
Cho ran up to him and tugged at his sleeve. Harry whirled around to stare at her. She heard herself speak, "Is it really you?" She had to know if it was really him. Her hands felt his face; her fingers traveled over his legendary scar, soft eyelashes, and pliant lips. Harry just looked at her. "Or is the likeness only skin-deep?"
She wanted to cry. He made no effort to acknowledge her question, but just stood rooted to the spot, a look of utter disdain crossed his features. Cho felt her knees growing weak. Harry would never look at her like that; not even when they had last argued did he show any outward sign of such loathing. "There they are!" Cho saw soldiers coming at them. Several were drawing arrows on their bows. A strong arm brought her against a hard body. She looked up to see Harry raise his wand to create a temporary shield, protecting them.
"Come on!" Harry grabbed her hand and unknowingly led them toward the village church. She lost her balance on the cobble street and fell. Harry roughly picked her up and resumed his running. The cathedral bell tower and archaic stained-glass windows loomed high over their heads. Cho gulped. Inside they would be trapped, but the love she felt for him compelled her to follow. He opened the double doors and the candle light illuminated the sight of the crucifix behind the altar. He paused near the front of the altar.
Cho kept a tight grip on his hands, never wanting to let him go again. Again? Had he left her before? She could only stare up at his handsome face as he stared right back at her. Harry seemed so different without his usual spectacles and short untidy hair. "Is it really you?" she asked again. This Harry was not the one she had grown to like for the past two years. This Harry was grown up and full of lessons from harsh experiences. Cho had to know what became of the young man that would stare at her and smile instead of stare and scorn.
"Finish them!" She gasped and saw infantry with drawn swords and upheld shields storm down the center and side aisles. It was hopeless. There was nowhere to run. Archers with much larger bows came to the front. "Ready your bows!" She heard arrows being notched into place.
The young woman returned her gaze to stare at Harry. She didn't want to cry and show her weakness in front of him, but the warm trail of a tear tracked its way down her face. It doesn't matter anymore, she thought. Wherever we go, I'll go with all my heart…with him. Cho felt more tears fall when Harry drew her close to him, his warm breath against her own. "Aim!" The sounds of strings tensing up were the only things she heard.
Cho let out a small smile as his eyes finally let out an undecipherable emotion. They pleaded with her to run, to escape, to live. No, she thought, I'll follow you to whatever ends we meet. She wanted to speak three words she had never dared even whispered before, but her courage could not be exerted. "Loose!"
Cho felt the pain as the metal of an arrow point pierced through her gown and skin. She let out a short yelp of pain as the stone cold ground of the church met her. She kept her eyes open, determined to die looking into the eyes of the man she so loved. His fingers moved toward her, but she saw no more. A voice lulled her into an eternal sleep.
o o o o o o o
"Aarrgh!" Harry heard a scream pierce the night. He bolted upright in his bed and grabbed his glasses, finally having the strength to move again. He had spent the better part of a month in the Hospital Wing; Muggle practices had helped him recover. His puncture wounds were nasty scars now; the redness mingling with the natural color of his skin.
Harry threw the sheets off his body and winced as he felt the icy coldness of the castle floor. The hospital pajama pants he had to wear did nothing to warm his feet. Madam Pomfrey had still insisted on keeping his torso wrapped in layers of bandages because of his mending ribs.
He drew back the curtains to the bed he had not dared look at for the past four weeks. Cho Chang lay there clutching her chest. From his terse conversations with Madam Pomfrey, Harry kept up with Cho's recovery and was glad to know she was doing almost as well as him.
"Cho?" he quietly asked, slowly approaching her. His eyes were still focusing to the dark.
"Harry?" At least she could talk.
"Yes, it's me." Harry sat beside her on the bed, seeking out her hand to reassure her.
He felt her grip his hand. He saw her head turn his way. Her hand left his and touched his bandages. "What happened to you?"
"Oh – uh – Quidditch practice," he lied. Harry found himself doing that more often. "A bludger came at me."
"Are you all right?" she asked softly, her hand returning to his.
Harry could finally make out her face in the moonlight. He couldn't see her eyes too well, but the tone of her voice was concerned. "I'm more worried about you than a couple broken ribs. Did you have a nightmare?"
She nodded, "Yes."
"Anything I can do to help?"
Cho had finally awoken from her month's long sleep plagued by the haunting dream of her and Harry's deaths. She let a sob wrack her body after a hard fought battle to stay strong in front of him. The dream felt so real. Everything from the pain to the tightness of her dress felt real. But the Harry she had seen was so much different from the concerned one sitting before her now. Soon she was crying and had her face in her hands. Cho felt a slight pain in her chest – the same place an arrow had pierced her in the dream.
"Don't cry," he said, seeing the tracks of her tears shining.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed out, "I know you hate it when I cry."
Harry groaned and felt guilty at what he had said to her on their date last year. He had yelled at her about always crying over Cedric. It was true he felt really annoyed when any girl cried over another guy, but this was just not any girl. This was Cho Chang. He hesitated, before placing a hand on her arm. "Don't worry. Just let it out." Harry wished he had a little more courage when it came to comforting others, especially girls. He even had a hard time when Hermione had once broken down during the summer.
Cho sobbed even louder when he spoke. His voice! It was so good to hear his voice after such a terrible nightmare. She couldn't help but throw her arms around him. She wanted to make sure he was real and that this wasn't another dream.
Harry sat stiff as a board. He slowly let himself hold her in return. It was amazing. He had kissed Cho before, but had never really held her so intimately. Cho rested her head on his strong shoulder. She had difficulty not noticing his long limbs; lean, toned muscles under taut skin. No dream could ever bring him to her at one of her most vulnerable moments. No dream could fill her senses with him so fully. No…nothing felt so real in her life.
Oh…her hair touched my cheek. Harry felt the softness of her tresses brush against his face. He listened as her breathing slowed and finally fell into a regular rhythm. "Maybe I should get Madam Pomfrey."
Cho could have sworn she heard her heart drop. "No," she pleaded, looking up at him, "Please stay. I don't want to be alone."
Harry felt his heart go out to her. She was scared and he knew what it was like to be scared. He would have wanted someone to be there with him, if only to just wait until he fell asleep. Adding to the fact that she was still recovering from her wounds from a month ago and the one caused by Cedric's death, Harry lowered his head and sighed. He really didn't know how to comfort anyone. It was so pathetic. People were always fawning over his every groan and yelp, but he couldn't even muster the Gryffindor bravery needed to stay with Cho.
Cho knew that Harry wasn't the type to deal with awkward situations like these, but she didn't care. All she needed was for him to stay. If he left, she felt like he might never come back. "Please, Harry," she begged again. Cho lifted her hand to feel his face the same way she had in her dream. The only difference was he was wearing his glasses. "I just want you to be close by."
He closed his eyes and sighed. He dared not tell her about his own nightmare. "All right," he gave in.
She felt him nudge closer to her. Putting her arms around his neck, Cho whispered, "Can you hold me?"
Harry chuckled. It was an odd sensation against her face. "I don't know. I think I can." He hugged her petite frame against him as his heart sped up in contrast to his held breath.
Cho smiled at his response. She had said the same thing to him not too long ago. Wait. How long was I out? "How have I been here, Harry?" she asked withdrawing from him.
"About a month," he casually replied.
"What?" Cho could hardly believe she'd been out for so long. That meant it was October. She mentally kicked herself. Her pile of assignments must be outrageous! Even missing a couple days at Hogwarts meant a week's worth of catching up on work. "Do my parents know?"
"I'm not sure." There was a moment of silence. Harry watched as she lost herself in deep thought. Maybe I should leave. He pushed himself off the mattress, but Cho took hold of his hand.
"Just a little longer?"
"I'm sorry, Cho, really," he replied, "but I think it would be best if you got some sleep."
Cho kept her exclamation to a hissed whisper. "I've had a month's worth of sleep, Harry!" He had no comeback to that, so he just stood there. "Will you stay, Harry?"
"I can't stay the whole night."
Cho bit her bottom lip. It was true he couldn't very well sit by her side the whole night. There was no way she was returning to that awful nightmare again. "Yes, you can," she impulsively replied.
"How?" he asked.
Yes, how? she asked herself. He also needed rest to recover and Cho didn't want to rob him of a much needed night's sleep. However, he could…"Sleep with me?"
Harry had never heard such a bold question come from any girl before. "Cho?"
She slowly moved over to the far left side of the bed. Cho could hardly accept the fact that she was asking Harry Potter to share a bed with her. She drew back the sheets and patted the unoccupied space, inviting him (A/N: in a non-sensual way).
He swallowed the large lump of nervousness that had built up with each passing second in his throat. It was a dream. It had to be. Cho Chang – Ravenclaw beauty – was not the type to let him – Harry Potter, unattractive and blunt – sleep with her. Slowly, he sat down next to her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Are you sure?" Harry had never failed to attempt the gentleman's role.
Cho took the blanket that was half folded over to her side and put it over his legs. She removed his glasses and set them on a table next to her. Carefully, she lay down, keeping her gaze locked on Harry's. Cho reached up and held the back of his neck, playing with the hair at the base of his head. She brought his head to rest on her pillow, his body following, laying next to her.
Harry watched as she brought the blanket up to their shoulders. Snuggling up to him, she answered, "I'm sure." Before falling asleep, Cho felt a strong arm around her waist bring her against a warm body.
o o o o o o o
"I hope you've been reading those books I've given you, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said as she watched him approach her. "Within a fortnight1 we will begin the practical parts of your lessons."
"I've been reading Professor," Harry answered, "it's all I was able to do in the Hospital Wing."
"Very good, then," she replied, "I suppose it's best if we went down to dinner."
Harry followed his Transfiguration teacher out of her office toward the Great Hall. He had left the Hospital Wing a couple days after Cho's awakening. It was the most peaceful slumber he had since the first night he spent at Hogwarts. Harry came to find that falling asleep in the arms of the girl of your dreams was wonderful, however, waking up in those same arms was unfathomable. No words could describe the giddiness he felt when her eyes fluttered open and she smiled. Of course, Madam Pomfrey had a fit when she found them, but Cho quickly explained the situation, which temporarily calmed the old Healer.
"By the way," Professor McGonagall began as they entered the Great Hall, "welcome back, Mr. Potter."
"Thank you, Professor," he said as she glided off toward the staff table.
Harry stood in the doorway, watching as the four House tables were filling up with people and noisy chatter. He hadn't heard such volume for a long time and reveled in being back among his peers. However, quick glances and whispered snickers hit home when Harry made his way to three familiar mops of hair. Conversations were abruptly cut off as he passed, followed by either scared expressions or a warm smile from a supporter. It hurt to see more scared expressions than warm smiles.
"Ron, look! It's Harry!" Seamus was waving him over with Lavender clutched tightly to his arm.
Ron's face, Hermione's and finally Ginny's popped from the side of the table as he hurriedly walked to them, desperate to be among his fellow Gryffindors.
The three got up from their seats and ran over to him. Hermione was the first to greet him. In the same manner she had in the Hospital Wing, she squeezed him tightly and kept saying his name over and over again like there was no tomorrow.
"Hey there," Ron greeted him with a handshake and quick hug, "It's great to see you."
"It's great to be back," Harry returned. Ginny was standing behind her brother and Hermione, tapping her foot in a mock impatient gesture. "Ginny…"
"It's about time, Potter." Ginny smiled and gave him a sisterly hug.
"I haven't seen you for so long."
"Miss me that much?" she teased as Harry chuckled. "Well, Madam Pomfrey refused to let me see you the day after Ron and Hermione left. She said you needed more rest and fewer visitors."
o o o o o o o
The chime of Professor McGonagall tapping her chalice never failed to bring everyone to attention. "Your attention, please."
Professor Dumbledore stood up and a blanket of silence fell over the students. "Just one announcement for the evening: all fourth year students and up are invited to this year's Winter Ball."
Small whispers peppered around the hall. "Of course, it will take place the evening of Christmas Day following the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin." Cheers could be heard from the two tables, with two Seekers eyeing each other. "The ball will begin promptly at seven o'clock until midnight. Formal attire will be expected of all attendees. That is all."
With that, endless chatter about the ball and upcoming match filled the Great Hall. Harry felt another wave of disbelief wash over him. He should have expected it. Lupin and Moody had sent letters regarding another ball with new dress robes for him to wear.
"Do you know why I hate formals?" Ron blurted out, poking at his food.
"If it has anything to do with asking girls to be your date, then I know what you mean," Harry replied.
"Guess we're in the same boat, then."
"You two desperately need girlfriends," Ginny quipped.
"No one asked for your opinion," Ron retorted back.
"I don't think so," Hermione piped in, "She does have a point, you know. If you two had someone to fall back on, you would make events like these much more enjoyable."
"Just because you've made good friends with an International Quidditch superstar doesn't mean you got to rub in it," Ron remarked.
Hermione narrowed her eyes before replying, "Well it doesn't mean you have to keep beating yourself up over that fact." Ron went red at the ears, his freckles seeming to blend in with his flushed face. Hermione just raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to try something.
"Anyway," Harry intervened, "I don't know why the guy has to ask the girl out. Is there some unwritten tradition that people follow?"
"Of course," Ginny said, "It's written in the stars. I mean, where's the fun of not seeing guys chicken out or sweating like crazy over asking a girl to a ball?"
Harry put a hand through his hair before answering, "Well, for just once, can't a guy not have the pressure of worrying about rejection?"
"It only makes your roles more entertaining," Ginny said. "Imagine the chaos if every male in this school had the ego of Michael Corner because the most significant rule of dating was thrown out the window."
Ron laughed loudly at the comment. "Yeah, think about it. We'd be rejecting left and right. Every girl in school would be plotting against us."
Harry settled back into his usual routine of laughing with his close friends. It felt great to be back among people who openly supported him when he was battling his foes – real or imagined.
o o o o o o o
The warm hearth helped him to think. Harry looked around his sanctuary. The Room of Requirement had adjusted to his need for thinking. A comfortable armchair and blazing fire was all he needed. His first couple days back in class went well, except Snape was assigning him to brew missed potions over the weekend. Tonks was so ecstatic she tripped when flying up the stairs to see him. Professor Flitwick had asked him to take a quick test about the Concerto Charm. Harry immediately thought of the sphere and brought forth his melody again, which was the reason for him being in the Room that night.
He hadn't thought about the sphere for a long time. Madam Pomfrey had returned it to him without question and he never found the need to play it again. Now, however, with the announcement of the Winter Ball, the regularities of being a teenage wizard came back at full force. Taking the sphere from his pocket he set it on the table he had asked for. Harry felt around his robes for the shrunk flute and took that out, too. He hadn't played it since he was on the Hogwarts Express.
The silver object felt foreign in his unsure grasp. He tried to remember what had happened in the shop at Diagon Alley, but his memories were incoherent. They just couldn't be pieced together to form any solid foundation. Harry sighed and walked over to the large windows that revealed an endless torrent of rain. Why was he even trying to play the melody? Maybe his dreams would cease if he just ignored the sphere's song.
No…it would just haunt him further. "Accio!" The flute flew into his hands. Harry stared at it in his open palms. His fingerprints were distinguishable on the once clean metallic surface. His reflection no longer greeted him when he looked at it. Bringing it slowly to his lips, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on the sphere's melody. He heard it ring loud in his mind, the rise and fall of its repeating pattern drowning out the rain and thunder.
o o o o o o o
Cho watched as the young wizard held the Muggle instrument up to his lips, his back to her. He had not played anything yet, not a single sound. She had been released earlier that night after dinner. Ignoring the curfew, Cho set out to the Room of Requirement where she could reminisce about the DA meetings that Harry had once headed. Her mind was buzzing with the few memories she and Harry created – meeting him on the Quidditch field, seeing his disappointment at her rejection when he asked her to the Yule Ball, learning to defend herself with his guidance, their kiss, and her least favorite memory when she left him on their one and only date.
Suddenly, he let the instrument drop to his side. He turned so she could at least see one side of his face. Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes with the hem of his sleeve. Cho gasped. A ghost-like image of a man she had never seen took Harry's place. His long, black hair was pushed back behind his ears, revealing a blue eye. He looked so sad and yet so angry. He turned to look at her. His right eye was green. This man wasn't the one she had seen in her dream.
He opened his mouth and began singing something. "How will I solve tomorrow without you, girl? Whose heart will guide me when all the answers disappear? Is it too late? Are you too far gone to stay? Best friends forever should never have to go away."
Cho listened to his words. He seemed to be unaware of who she was, yet he kept singing. "What will I do? You know, I'm only half without you. How will I make it through?" He started crying as he took his wand from his pocket. "If only tears could bring you back to me. If only love could find a way. What I would do, what I would give if you returned to me someday, somehow, somewhere…if my tears could bring you back to me…" (A/N: If Only Tears Could Bring You Back by Midnight Sons. For complete lyrics, see bottom of chapter.) Cho cried as she watched a light shoot out from the tip of his wand. A musical staff formed, and then notes, rests, and finally measures.
Before the second light that came from his wand could reach the first note the man turned to look behind him. He yelled, "Fine!" The light retreated back to his wand as the image faded.
Cho stepped from her hiding place in the doorway, "No!" She failed to notice that she had disturbed the young Gryffindor. She was too concerned with the image she had seen.
Harry twirled around and stood there gaping at her. "Cho? What are you doing here?"
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Author's Note: Forgive me if this chapter took a little while to come out because I had the largest loss of words for a while. It's been hard to keep myself into the story.
Anyway…I hope this part has partially satisfied the hunger of our beloved HPCC crew. I don't really like stories that get characters spouting their undying love within two days' time. I prefer the slow, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding, blood-boiling, chest-constricting, palm-sweating, skin-tingling, foot-tapping, and teasing development of spouting of undying love. It makes the ending seem soooo much more satisfying. Also, for those wondering about Brie, her character was inspired by the fact that I hate Marietta and that I needed another OC to fill an important role.
Thank you Hotaru, Yashiro, Ayu, and Sakura for your time in editing and reviewing my work.
Reviews are welcome.
1 fortnight a time span of wo weeks
If Only Tears Could Bring Back (Pokémon: The First Movie soundtrack)
How will I solve tomorrow without you girl?
Whose heart will guide me when all the answers disappear?
Is it too late?
Are you too far gone to stay?
Best friends forever should never have to go away.
What will I do?
You know, I'm only half without you.
How will I make it through?
If only tears could bring you back to me.
If only love could find a way.
What I would do, what I would give,
If you returned to me someday, somehow, somewhere
If my tears could bring you back to me
I've cried you an ocean, if you'd sail on home again
Waves of emotion will carry you and all they can
Just let love guide you,
and your heart will chart the course
Soon you'll be drifting into the arms of your true North
Look in my eyes.
You'll see a million tears have gone by,
And still they're not dry
If only tears could bring you back to me
If only love could find a way
What I would do, what I would give,
If you returned to me someday, somehow, somewhere
If my tears could bring you back to me
I'd hold you close
And shout the words
I only whispered before
For one more chance,
For one last dance
There's not a pain
That I would not endure
If only tears could only bring you back to me
If only love could find a way
What I would do, what I would give
If you returned to me someday, somehow, somewhere
If my tears could bring you back to me…