A/N:Peeps head into room: Well… hello there. Wow. Just… wow. I think that's the only word that can convey my emotions. I haven't posted in about 12 years. But it's not my fault! See, I'm at home for the summer, while I wait for my sophomore year in college to begin. And as it is, we have a computer over here, but it's sort of difficult to use—I can't really explain it. But! I have sort of figured out a way to enlist it in my plan to finish the rest of my story, so… yeah. It's really a long story. So I'm finally posting! I've been dying to, by the way. It was torture. This is my fourth time typing this particular chapter, so let it be noted that I despise Farewell, Quidditch with all my soul. Thanks to gu61, xxducksgomoo, grookill, grantsbeetle, Tyrion77, mysteriouscharm, and sweet-strawberry692010. You people have no idea how sorry I am that I haven't been able to really get on Fanfiction. BTW, I appreciate your responses to my Ron question. I figured I made you guys hate him a bit….

Lock and Key

Chapter 32

Harry yawned as his eyelids began to flutter. Another day had dawned, and it was thankfully a Friday; the weekend had arrived. He shifted in his spot and threw his arms out, stretching them. A brief shock coursed through his system when they encountered a solid object, but it was replaced by a happy understanding seconds later. Grinning, Harry opened his eyes. Hermione's back was his first image of the day. Ah, yes—last night she had come to him begging permission to sleep with him, and he had gratefully conceded. It had been astonishing. The feeling of having Hermione right beside him, enveloped in his arms, had seemed so right. It had been exhilarating and sleep had come so easily. (Harry hadn't recalled falling asleep that soundly in years). And she was still here the morning after—it hadn't been a dream.

"Hermione." Harry quietly said, leaning up and touching her arm. He wasn't sure if she was conscious or not. That was answered a moment later when she turned around and faced him.

"Hi," she greeted, resting an arm on her pillow.

"Hi," he smiled. Harry leaned over and kissed her, despite his possible morning breath.

"How was your sleep?"

"Perfect," smiled Hermione.

"It's fifteen after seven."

"Oh no…. We have to go to breakfast and class," she reported, putting her hands over her eyes.

"A quick breakfast," he commented, "And your roommates are probably wondering where you are."

"You're right," she gasped, sitting up, "I'm usually up and out of the room by this time!" Harry looked at her and grinned.

"Use the Disillusionment Charm to sneak back into your bed. And, if they ask, just tell them you felt like sleeping in," he offered, one arm resting on his knee. Hermione stared at him. Did she really have to justify her actions to her roommates? Did she really have to explain to them that her need for Harry had reached an entirely new peak? Of course not… nor did she want to. If they questioned her absence, she simply wouldn't respond.

"I don't have to say a word," the Head Girl whispered, kissing him, "But I do have to go. I'd better go dress… see if I can knick something to eat." He nodded, gazing at her.

"I'll go check if it's all right," he announced. Harry got out of his bed and stuck his head out of a portion of the drapes. The only other boy present was Ron. He looked up as he peered Harry's head (appear between the hangings) out of the corner of his eye. They made eye contact and stared at one another momentarily. Harry scowled at him before retreating back into his sanctuary. Ron worked up a sneer in return and grabbed his wand from his bedside drawer. He then tromped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Well, the last person just left." Harry reported, placing his glasses on his face. Hermione climbed out of the bed and went to find her slippers and wand.

"Here," he said, opening his trunk and riffling through it, "You can use this to get back in." He stood up and gave her the Invisibility Cloak. His eyes moved back down to her pajamas for about the hundredth time. Nothing of a physical nature had happened the previous night besides light snogging, but Harry had (guiltily) thought about it. How could he not with her wearing shorts like that? He hadn't really seen her in such revealing clothing and it was mind baffling.

Harry threw his curtains open and they walked towards the door.

"Do you always keep your hangings drawn?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, since He stopped talking to me." They reached the door.

"Thank you," she said, standing on her tiptoes and kissing his nose.

"For what?" he smiled.

"I'll see you in Charms, if not at breakfast." The Seeker nodded. Hermione put her hand on the handle to open it, but it was hastily covered by Harry's. He apparently wanted to express something more before she departed, and he did so by pressing her body against the door with his and giving her a profound, lingering kiss.

"Bye," he murmured, looking into her brown eyes. He removed his hand. Hermione didn't reply vocally. Instead, she resolved to come back and sleep with Harry again very soon. She had meant it to happen once, but last night had soothed her beyond imagination. Being in Harry's arms, in his bed, had been exactly what she needed, and the thought of her own four poster was beginning to frighten her.

Hermione kissed him one last time.

"Bye," she said, opening the door and putting the Cloak on. The next moment, Harry saw the door snap shut. He put an arm against it and sighed.

The cheers from the rest of the school could be heard plainly inside the locker room on that Monday afternoon. The Gryffindor Quidditch team sat listening to its captain finishing up his lecture.

"Well, you lot know the importance of this game. If we don't beat Ravenclaw, we won't play in the Final. If we lose, the season's over. And yeah, it's Slytherin we'll be playing, but that's even more reason to want to win—so Gryffindor can take the Cup!" Harry said.

"Six years in a row," awed Ginny. He gave a small smile.

"Exactly. So, well… just—"

"Kick arse!" Matthew chirpily suggested. The others laughed (excluding the Keeper).

"Well put," Harry noted, grinning, "Let's go play, then!" Ron was the first person out of the locker room, as usual. Harry was the last one to leave and received a shock when he stepped out.

"Harry!" a voice jovially hailed. The boy jumped and looked to his left, startled. Bert Riley stood there and had his trademark grin on.

"Er, hi, Mr. Riley…" he mumbled.

"Good luck out there, though Gryffindor hardly needs it! Very imperative match, eh?"

"Yeah…"

"Should be a titillating Final… Slytherin versus Gryffindor, two mortal enemies," Riley commented, daydreaming. Harry looked at him doubtfully, "Well, don't want to hold you up! See you in the air!" The scout then ambled off to sit in the faculty section as the captain headed for the field. Riley sure was fanatical and positive about the lion House winning; it was beginning to mildly unnerve Harry.

The two teams stood in front of each other, the sunlight bounding off some of their brooms.

"Captains, shake hands," Hooch ordered. Harry's hand met the sixth year Ravenclaw's, John Fetenworth. The audience roared in anticipation, "All right! Let's have a fair, clean match you lot! Mount your brooms!" The players did as they were told and the whistle sounded. The crowd screamed cheerfully as twelve people shot into the sky.

"Good luck Harry." Rice bid, smiling and pelting up.

"You'll need it," he answered, smiling as well and also taking flight.

As the game started and Ernie Macmillan began commentating, Harry looked in the stands. He saw Riley sitting in between Professors Dumbledore and Snape, that grin of his plastered on his young face. Gryffindor students were jumping up and down happily, a random array of supportive posters here and there. Ravenclaw, in turn, was just as cheerful and optimistic as the lion pupils. Both Houses wanted so badly for their team to make it to the Final. Slytherin sat smugly in their portion of the bleachers, for the most part indifferent as to which House won; it would not win the Cup, so it did not matter. Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, wanted Gryffindor to triumph. He was aching to compete against Harry in the Final, and then humiliate him by catching the Snitch for the Cup and his House.

Sarah made the first goal of the game and her House loudly approved.

"Clayborn! Ten to zero!" yelled the Hufflepuff. Harry scanned the area for any hint of the Snitch. (Rice was on the other side of the pitch doing the same). He doubted the ball would be out so early in, but wanted to be safe rather than sorry. He couldn't lose to Rice again….

A Ravenclaw Chaser scored, tying it up; the ravens celebrated. Harry looked at Ron to see his reaction, and the redhead appeared annoyed with himself for letting the Quaffle through. Satisfied with the Keeper's dissatisfaction of his performance, Harry flew over to Gryffindor's section. Flying overhead and pretending to hunt for the winged ball, he craftily made himself known to Hermione, winking. She smiled in an embarrassed, happy sort of way and did not respond. Her roommates giggled and nudged her, as those directly around them laughed as Harry directed his broom toward the Hufflepuffs.

Ginny had just scored when Ron saw Harry's… disgusting, display of heroics directed at Hermione. Most had not, but Ron had just happened to have his attention on the captain when he had done it. The Keeper's countenance screwed up with revulsion and vexation. What did Harry think this was? A joke? While he was over there socializing with his girlfriend, the rest of his team was participating in a Quidditch game, one he himself had insisted was serious. Well, Ron saw how it was… if Harry wanted to be a hypocrite….

Ravenclaw made their second goal, making the score 20-20. Harry slowly circled the bottom of a goalpost, eyes trained for gold. He had a troubling intuition that the Snitch was going to have one of those dull matches, in which it would take forever to appear. He spotted David hovering above the Slytherins, alert. Harry began to fly towards the rest of the players as Ravenclaw scored again.

"And Ravenclaw takes the ten point lead!" Ernie pointed out.

Harry wasn't too far from the Forbidden Forest when the ravens made another goal. Sighing to himself, he guided the Firebolt closer to his team. Colin shot by him, going to pelt a Bludger targeting Lauren. He looked at Ron; an irritated grimace occupied his face. Well, so long as he knew he was slipping up a bit…. Harry decided to go trail David, mostly out of boredom, but as he moved to do so, Ravenclaw scored once more.

"And it's now 20 to 50, ladies and gentlemen!" Ernie shouted. Gryffindor began to frown and grumble as Ravenclaw became euphoric. Riley's grin actually faded. What was going on? Harry definitely wanted to know—Ron had let three consecutive Quaffles in. He saw that Matthew was looking oddly at their Keeper as he drew nearer to them. Luckily, at that precise moment, Sarah scored for Gryffindor. The lions cheered, starting to perk up again. Harry turned to carry out his original plan when the announcer claimed:

"Sixty to thirty! Ravenclaw gets another!" Harry stopped abruptly. All right, something was off. Harry saw Ginny, with a Quaffle under her arm, fly to the opposite end of the field looking infuriated. He looked at Ron but before he could decipher anything, he saw Rice streaking off in the corner of his eye.

Harry rapidly tore after him, shaken. He had not been paying attention! What if Rice had too much of a lead? Gryffindor would lose! Harry's fear must have powered him, because he caught up to the other Seeker quickly. David, however, ceased when Harry was near.

"I didn't see it," he smiled, "Just wanted to see if you'd follow!" Harry gaped. He had to be kidding.

Harry left Rice without saying anything. He had no time for stupid tricks! He had a Keeper to worry about. Ravenclaw bumped the score from 30-60 to 30-70 as Harry crossed the pitch. He gripped the broom so hard his knuckles turned white. What was going on with Ron! The lions began complaining, but it could not be heard over the ravens' joyous yells. Harry was finally in close proximity to Ron when Ravenclaw obtained ten more points and he saw it: the redhead was letting the Quaffles in!

"Eighty to thirty! Wow!" Ernie remarked. Harry's mouth moved soundlessly for a few seconds before he shouted for a timeout.

On the ground he stared at Ron, flabbergasted and fuming.

"We're down by fifty!" said Colin. Harry, however, was paying sole attention to Ron.

"You… you…" he stuttered.

"He's not stopping them!" Ginny savagely snapped.

"He's helping Ravenclaw win!" added Matthew. The other three gasped. Ron looked momentarily at the others before leering at Harry. He did not try to make a plea or deny it. The two ex-best friends glared at each other in silence until Hooch demanded their return. Harry was the last up, squinting at Ron with loathing.

Ron gathered from Harry's eyes during their timeout that he didn't want Ron to even think of purposefully letting the other team make a goal again. As if to prove a point, Ravenclaw scored within thirty seconds of Gryffindor's return. Ron sat on his broom with his arms crossed, looking pointedly at his captain as Ravenclaw went mad. I can do this until they win. Harry bared his teeth and closed his eyes, letting fury take over his system. Ron was out of control. He flew away from his team to keep from going off and to search for the Snitch as his House wilted.

Harry stormed into the common room in tow with the Quidditch team, with Ron leading the pack. The game had ended 10 minutes previously and much of the crowd was still out on the field celebrating. After noisily and moodily retrieving their possessions from the locker room, the Gryffindor seven had proceeded straight to their Tower, bypassing anyone and everyone. (Riley had tried to get Harry's attention but failed).

The victors of the game: Gryffindor. Ron had kept up with his will of letting Ravenclaw score freely, much to the rage of his team and elation of the other. Some of the people watching had figured out what Ron was doing, but most supposed he was merely having an off day. Harry, truly wanting to punch the Keeper, was obstinate in not letting him ruin their House's chance; it was embarrassing, but he would not let Ron succeed in his twisted plan. The Snitch had appeared when the score was 110-40, and Ravenclaw was sure it would face Slytherin. Both Seekers saw it instantly and raced after it, with both Houses holding their breath. Gryffindor went insane and screamed itself hoarse when Harry captured it, bringing the score to 110-190 and Gryffindor to the Quidditch Final.

While the Gryffindor students were excited beyond belief, the team was raging. It had been a narrow victory and one of their own had doubled-crossed them.

"What, the hell, was that?" Harry demanded, coming quickly up to the forefront of the room. He faced Ron and was completely enraged. The other five loitered randomly behind them, glaring at Ron.

"What was what?" the Keeper coolly questioned. Harry gawked at him.

"Your blunt resolve to let Ravenclaw score! You didn't bothering Keeping!" he yelled. These were the first words Harry had spoken to him in weeks.

"We won, didn't we? You saved us, like normal." Ron coldly stated, narrowing his eyes.

"No bloody thanks to you," snarled Harry, "You sabotaged us! We could have lost the chance for the Final, you twat!"

"Oh, now you care! You're taking it seriously now, aren't you capatain!"

"I've always taken it seriously!"

"Yeah? Even when you were flirting with Hermione two seconds into the game!" Harry glared at him. Ron was clinging to the whim of the Boy Who Lived being a hypocrite, but the truth was that the incident with Hermione had also reminded him of the fact that she wasn't his. She was with Harry.

Their peers had begun filling the room, spotting the unoccupied five players and commencing lively chatter. Harry did not notice, on the other hand; he continued to stare furiously at Ron. So, that was what this was truly about—Hermione.

"I see," he said, "So, because of Hermione, you decided to punish the team, all of Gryffindor."

"This isn't about her! It's about you!" Ron snapped.

"Yeah, the fact that I'm dating her! You're just getting back at me! But, whatever. All I know is that if you try it again in the Final, I'll pull you out and replace without blinking an eye." Harry told him. Ron's face flushed. He opened his mouth to retort but the Seeker walked away. He barely acknowledged the students craving conversation with him and proceeded to the portrait hole, intent on finding Hermione. Ron glowered sordidly at his form before stalking off to his dormitory.

That night, Harry lay on his right side with his arms crossed and eyes screwed shut. His anger at Ron had not vitiated much throughout the day and now it was disturbing his sleep. How could he? Harry had spent much of dinner scowling at the Weasley boy. He now had perfect motive to hate Ron as much as he hated Harry. Not the tiniest speck of guilt was left. Trying to throw the match… unbelievable….

Harry suddenly felt a hand on his arm and opened his eyes. He swiftly sat up and saw Hermione. From what he could make out, she was wearing those marvelous pajamas again.

"I thought I'd bring your Cloak back," she coyly said. Harry sprung into action and put another Silencing Charm on his bed, then jumped her. This time he was the one hungry for kisses, needing to temporarily forget about the Quidditch game. He laid her on her back and gave way to allowing his hands and mouth to talk to her.

"I missed you." Hermione whispered.

"You scared me. I didn't think you'd come back. I thought it was a one time thing." Harry responded.

"No. I want to sleep with you as often as possible."

"Every night," he demanded. She smiled and kissed him again.

"Harry, is something wrong? It seems like since the match, you've been… bothered," she noted. He had not told her about Ron and deduced now was a good time as any. He dived into the tale, but excluded why the ex-prefect had acted in that fashion.

"I can't believe he would do that!" the Head Girl said, voice quivering slightly.

"Yeah, he's been doing some pretty amazing things lately." Harry dryly remarked.

"And you don't know why he did it?"
"He's still mad at me. It's apparently good enough reason." Hermione sighed, hear head resting on his chest. Would Ron ever forgive them?

"Are you tired?" she wondered.

"Yes." Harry answered.

"Then let's go to sleep."

The Quidditch Final was set for Friday, right after breakfast. Ravenclaw had accepted its defeat humbly and was gladly awaiting the game like everyone else. Slytherin was mightily pleased they were competing against Gryffindor, and frighteningly determined to beat them. The team was often together, speaking in low whispers. In class and the halls, Malfoy would throw Harry arrogant smirks, sometimes equipped with harsh words. Both captains were convicted to acquire the Cup; it was their last year and school game. Their enmity was as grand as ever.

The snake and lion students were at each other's throats yet again, as in earlier years. Fights broke out, hexes were flung, and severe practical jokes were played. Snape had taken to abusing Gryffindors again, noticeably Harry. It was only when McGonagall threatened to have no Final at all that everyone calmed down, for the most part. The effect of what Ron had done seemed to have sunk in with the boy. He wanted the Cup, badly, and had nearly abrogated that hope. He now had a riled team that was suspicious of his intentions to cope with. Not to mention, Ron might have obliterated his shot at the Quidditch League.

Harry was the first person awake in his room on Friday morning, and the first Gryffindor at breakfast. With coffee and toast, he reviewed his plays. Ron had better act like he hadn't lost his mind…. All of the Slytherin team ambled into the Great Hall not very long after Harry's arrival, followed by stragglers. They looked at him and laughed.

"You're wasting your time, Potter," Malfoy superciliously called, "I'm going to murder you." Harry ignored the Head Boy and secretly hoped he would attack him. Nothing like a morning duel to relieve stress.

The Great Hall was soon full of loud, rowdy students. The Gryffindor team sat together but did not say much. Harry had hammered everything into them during their last practice. In no way, shape, or form did he want to lose to Slytherin—Malfoy. They were the first ones to leave the table, amid zealous applause, and journeyed to the locker room.

Harry stood with the other six on the grass, waiting a little impatiently for the opposing team. Madam Hooch stood like a solider in the center, arms behind her back. The cheers from the audience were already uncontrollable, and chants could be heard. The Gryffindor and Slytherin sections were immersed in moving, shimmering posters. (Dean's buff Harry was up again and Luna had one devoted to King Weasley). In the locker room, Harry had reminded them that this was their last match together, his last game at Hogwarts.

"Let's just make it worthwhile, okay?"

The Slytherins finally made their way across the field, though rather lazily. Harry shook his head and looked at his team: they were set. The crowd hooted and wailed. Bert Riley sat in the booth with Ernie Macmillan, Professors Dumbledore and Sprout. He looked like a kid in the world's biggest candy store.

"All right," Hooch stated, "Let's keep this as clean and classy as possible, shall we? No dirty moves or tricks. Any fouls will be called straight away. I won't hesitate to remove someone from the game!" They glared and smirked at one another.

"Captains," she said. Harry gritted his teeth. He had never gotten over the displeasure of shaking Malfoy's hand. The two Seekers violently, but surreptitiously, shook hands, both trying to crush the other's fingers.

"Onto your brooms!" snapped Hooch, wise to their long hand contact. Harry's eyes remained on the blonde. Their final showdown…. Harry had to win. It would symbolize his triumph over everything the Head Boy had ever put him through. Malfoy gave him a mock smile and mouthed the word 'loser'. Hooch then blew her whistle, 14 pupils pelted into the sky, and the spectators' shouts became deafening. Harry sucked in a breath of fresh air. Well… this was it.

A/N: Like I said, I hate this chapter. By the way, Harry and Hermione have not have sex yet, kay? Just wanted to throw that out there. I'll try to have chapter 33 up on Saturday, or Sunday. I gotta get this whole story done by July 16th. And you all know what that glorious day signifies! I'm so excited!