Disclaimer: I'm not J.R.R. Tolkien, I'm not J.K. Rowling, But I write from the heart, from the heart.
Summery: A very public match, a little too public for the liking of some... Well, at least they got Dean back on their corner.
Bata: Beankin' – I thank you so very much for that.
Mad About You – Chapter 8
Artist – Sting. Title – Mad about you. Album – The soul cages.
That Sunday morning Harry got up in a good mood. It's been quite a while since he played for real; the last Gryffindor match was almost two months ago and that was against Slytherin. After the fall of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, the house of Slytherin suffered quite a few losses. Not only students who died but mostly parents who refused to send their children back to Hogwarts. From a proud and arrogant house, Slytherin turned into a mass of students doing their best to keep their heads down and finish the year. Their Quidditch team was quite abysmal and they didn't seem to care. Harry found it very sad. True, he hated Slytherin, some members more than others, and everybody knew that. But he still found the mess that had become Slytherin to be a little too pathetic. It proved they were never much of a house to begin with. Personal rivalry, greed and family reputation were much more important to them than house loyalty and friendship. But that was their problem, he thought, he was a Gryffindor after all.
Once in the changing room Harry gave his players the pre match pep talk. Ravenclaw was always a good team but this year they were on fire. They currently held the second place after Gryffindor but there were only 20 points separating the two teams which meant that Gryffindor had to win this match to stay in the lead.
When they came out of the changing rooms the stands were already full of cheering people wearing red or blue.
"Good afternoon Quidditch fans, and welcome on this very fine day to the Gryffindor- Ravenclaw match," Seamus' voice floated cheerfully from the commentator stand. Bugger, bugger, bugger! Harry cursed inwardly, the last thing he needs right now is to be distracted by Seamus' voice. And that was quite a distraction, especially when he said Harry's name. He completely forgot about Seamus commentating. The last game was commentary was made by Luna Lovegood, since Seamus had a nasty cold and almost lost his voice.
"This match promises to be one of the most exciting of the year, as the teams stand with only 20 points separating them. And here they come. And now we have the traditional captains' hand shake, between the Ravenclaw captain Will McKay, who is also their keeper, and the Gryffindor captain Harry Potter, seeker and legend. And here is the whistle and they are off."
Harry soared high above the pitch to scan the game like he did every time. He made a mental note to himself of Abby Goldman, the new Ravenclaw seeker, the replacement for Cho Chang who left Hogwarts (much to Harry's relief, as she turned a little too freaky for him after Cedric's death). He never played against Abby before but she looked fit and fast. He started his routine of looking for the snitch.
The game was close; the teams switched the lead between them constantly. Harry circled the pitch a couple of times, his mind elsewhere. He was paying more attention to Seamus' voice than to the game, and he didn't even notice it. He had to catch himself a couple of times from the half aroused state Seamus' voice was sending him to and force his attention back to the game. Bugger! It's no good, he thought, I can't focus. He tried to block the commentary out but it was hard to break years of habit in a few seconds. Besides, it was pretty much the only coherent sound around. He wished Lee Jordan was still in school; then this rather embarrassing problem wouldn't exist. Even Luna Lovegood would be nice right now, though whenever she was in charge of the commentary it was very hard to concentrate as everyone frequently stopped to try and figure out what the hell she just said.
A sharp movement at the corner of his eye caused him to focus again and he turned to see Abby rushing downwards; she saw the snitch. Harry cursed loudly and started to follow but he knew he didn't have much chance, she was too far ahead. He heard Seamus' voice floating in the air.
"And Abby Goldman is after the snitch, which is apparently near the Ravenclaw goal post. The Gryffindor seeker is too high to catch her; it looks like a Ravenclaw win. But wait! Ginny Weasley, one of the Gryffindor chasers, has just blocked Goldman's way to the snitch, forcing her to change course. That's amazing. The snitch disappeared again. Well done Ginny!" A roar of boos from the Ravenclaw side and cheers from the red stands followed his last statement. "Whatever happened to Harry? It's very unlike for him to be this careless. What's gotten into him?" From somewhere in the crowd someone called loudly:
"Apparently You, Finnigan".
The whole world stopped around Harry. He could feel the heat rising to his face and knew he must be crimson by now. He didn't recognize the voice but it didn't make much difference. He glanced down to where Seamus was standing and even from this height he could see the bright red colour of his face. It probably didn't help their case that they both stopped and looked guilty as hell. The crowd held its breath; this was interesting. After what seemed like eternity to Harry he heard Professor McGonagall's whisper, "Finnigan, what's wrong with you? Get a move on!" Her whisper hissed through the magical microphone and shook the crowd out of trance. There was a wave of murmurs that had nothing to do with the game before Seamus found his voice again.
"Hmmm, yes, we continue the game…" He took a deep breath and did his best to ignore the crowd. "The quaffle is again in Gryffindor possession, Dean Thomas passing it to Ginny Weasley. Back to Thomas and it's him against the Ravenclaw keeper McKay, Thomas shoots and it's IN! Gryffindor scores and we have yet another tie; both teams currently stand at 80 points."
Harry just wanted the game to end but he knew he was the only one who could end it (to the Gryffindors' satisfaction anyway); he shook his head to get rid of the embarrassment and forced himself to focus one hundred per cent on the search for the bloody snitch. And there it was, hovering a few feet from the ground near one of the stands. He turned his broom and started racing towards the little ball. Abby saw his movement and followed suit. They both raced almost neck to neck; she is fast, thought Harry on the way down, but she is no match for me…
In the last few feet above the ground she pulled up but Harry didn't. His fingers closed on the small ball and he managed to avoid colliding with the stand with just a few inches to spare. He soared back up and held his hand high.
"And the Gryffindor captain and seeker Harry Potter has the snitch! The game ends with a Gryffindor victory 230 – 90!" There was a disappointed groan from the Ravenclaw supporters which was drowned by the cheers of the Gryffindors. Harry closed his eyes, relieved the match was over. When he opened them again his team was surrounding him to hug him. He noticed that Dean was not among them and he also noticed Ginny's reproachful look. He didn't feel very victorious at the moment, only extremely stupid. He wanted to be left alone. The Gryffindor team made its way to the ground and Harry went to Madame Hooch to shake Will's hand. By the time he started making his way to the showers most of the stands were empty.
Seamus took a deep breath. What in the name of Merlin and Dumbledore just happened here? He was sitting behind the microphone as the crowd piled out of the pitch, holding his head in his hands. This cannot be good! This was probably going to be so bad, he thought miserably. McGonagall stepped in behind him.
"Finnigan!" she said sharply, and he jumped. "Would you care to explain what happened to you and Potter back there?" Seamus shook his head; he really did not want to explain anything, especially to the headmistress.
"Humour me anyway," McGonagall's voice was dry and suggested she already knew.
"I'm not sure what happened, someone was shouting something…" She cut him off impatiently.
"Mr. Finnigan, I'm glad you take your commentary duties so seriously but that was not my question. Is it true?"
Seamus nodded. He couldn't actually face her. She took a deep breath and said in a very businesslike tone, "I see. Well, I suggest you write to your parents immediately."
Seamus' head snapped up in horror. "No! Why?"
"Because whether you like it or not, the Daily Prophet is obsessed with Harry Potter and something like this will not pass quietly."
"Can't you do something about it?" Seamus sounded a little desperate. He did not want to write to his parents, he didn't want to deal with any of this.
"If I had any power over the Daily Prophet, many things would have been much different, I assure you," said McGonagall. "You chose the most famous wizard of our time and now you have to face the consequences."
"I didn't choose him! And it wasn't because he's famous!" Seamus rose from his chair, and met McGonagall's cool stare and tiny flicker of a smile.
"I'm glad to hear that. Now, run along, you and Mr. Potter have a lot to talk about."
Once on the ground he broke into a run towards the changing rooms. That was scary; McGonagall had this effect on people sometimes. When he burst inside the showers he found them empty except for a very confused Harry sitting, still in his Quidditch robes, on the bench.
At the sound from the door Harry's head rose. When he saw Seamus he got up and crossed the room towards him, falling into his arms. It was a very nice gesture, thought Seamus, but it didn't really change the fact that Harry just finished a Quidditch game.
"Harry, you need to shower. And fast!" Harry didn't move.
"Come with me."
"Where to?"
"To the shower, silly."
"I'm not sure it's a very good idea right now and besides, I don't really need a shower."
Harry smiled and ran his hand through his sweaty hair and then moved it along Seamus' face and neck. "You do now."
Seamus laughed. "That was gross, mate!" But he didn't resist when Harry pulled him towards the shower while pushing away his robes.
They stood under the hot water for a while, holding each other, each deep in his thoughts. Harry turned to face Seamus. "What the hell are we going to do now?" he asked.
"I don't know, McGonagall cornered me after the game to ask if it's true."
"Did you tell her?"
"I didn't really have much choice, did I? She said I have to write home and tell my parents."
"She's right, you know."
"I know!" Seamus didn't mean to snap like that, especially not at Harry, but the idea of writing to his parents was playing wreck on his nerves. He took a deep breath. Harry sensed this was a delicate subject and decided to leave it; instead he wrapped his arms more firmly around Seamus and tried to comfort him. After a while Seamus moved and detached himself from Harry.
"My back is freezing," he explained. They finished showering quickly and took two big white towels from the pile in the corner and sat on the bench.
"We have to decide how we are going to deal with this," said Harry, and Seamus pouted. "You do realize it's probably going to be on the front page of the prophet tomorrow, right?" Seamus sighed.
"I say we ignore them all. They can write whatever they want. I don't care!"
"Easy for you to say, you're name probably won't even be there," murmured Harry.
"I need to face my parents!" Seamus was sounding impatient again, he got up and walked to the wall. "That's going to be far worse than anything the stupid paper will publish!"
"Why? What's the worst they can do?"
"Well, first they're going to be raged, then they'll probably blame the system and eventually they'll go into deep denial," said Seamus in a flat voice. He leaned against the wall, not even looking at Harry.
"Isn't there supposed to be some sort of exceptance in the end?"
"I seriously doubt it. They'll probably declare me dead or something."
"Come on, I'm sure it's not going to be that bad…" Harry knew it was quite futile. It was very hard to get Seamus out of a depressed mood once he decided to plunge himself into one.
"You don't know what it's like! Just forget it. You won't understand."
"Why won't I understand? Is it because I don't have any parents!" Harry's voice was tense.
"What? NO! Damn it, Harry, stop being such a bloody martyr! Not everybody is out to get you just because you're an orphan! You are not going to understand what it's going to be like because you didn't grow up in an Irish-Catholic family!" Seamus was shouting and Harry realized he was actually afraid. His own anger over Seamus' remark subsided when he saw the state Seamus was in. He wanted to reach out and hug Seamus but he wasn't sure the gesture would be appreciated, so instead he leaned on the wall next to him, his hands tucked behind him.
"I'm sure they wouldn't. I mean, it's not like this is such a big deal."
"Oh, really? Harry, you can't even begin to realize just how big a deal this is! You know what they do to people like us where I come from?" Seamus turned and pressed his forehead against the cold, rough stone. "Where I come from, people like us don't even count as people. If you are lucky you end up an outcast."
"What if you're not lucky?" Harry couldn't stop the words slipping from his lips.
Seamus turned his head to look at Harry. "You end up dead," he said in a grave voice. Harry tried to stifle a smile; this was a bit too much for him. He never knew Seamus had such a flare for drama. He reached over and pulled Seamus to a tight hug, and felt Seamus' body trembling against his.
The door opened quietly and Dean slipped inside. He could almost feel the tension in the air but the picture in front of him told him that the storm had passed. All that was left was two boys holding each other for comfort, nothing special. If you could see past the fact they were both half naked, wearing only towels, that is. Dean wasn't sure what to do, he knew that if he turned now he would never muster the courage to speak to them again, but on the other hand he didn't really feel like treading on what looked like a very private moment.
He took a deep breath and coughed to announce his presence. They both jumped as if electrified and there was momentary confusion as they both tried to catch their slipping towels. Dean hastily turned to face the door, trying his best to focus on the texture of the wood and not notice the noises behind him. It is truly amazing how you can live in a place for so long and never notice its doors, he thought desperately. After several minutes Seamus said, slightly out of breath, "You can turn around." Dean cautiously turned and to his enormous relief found they were both dressed in their robes, a little crumpled and askew, but in robes all the same.
Dean took a deep breath and avoided looking at either of them. "I came here to apologize," he said quietly. "I acted like a real arse and I had no right too."
Harry was about to open his mouth to say "It's ok, mate," when Seamus cut in with a sharp voice.
"You did act like a real arse." Dean hung his head lower, expecting the reprimand he knew he deserved it. Harry looked at both of them and realized that this was not his fight. He shuffled his feet and said a bit uncertainly,
"Well, I'll leave you two to it, then." He hesitated for a second, and then turned to Dean. "Great to have you back, mate." Dean looked at him with surprise and smiled a bit. Harry moved as fast as he could and slipped through the door. Once outside the changing rooms he felt he could breathe more freely, mightily glad this was not his business. After all, his best friend was quite supportive, even if Harry still marvelled over that one.
He smiled to himself; having Dean back on their side right now was probably a very good thing, especially for Seamus.
He made his way back to the tower through the empty corridors. The thrill of having Dean back on their side was ebbing away as he thought of what will probably wait for him back in the tower. Everyone will support him but be glad they are not him. He just wanted to shout "Stop it! Stop trying to do the right thing!" But they were Gryffindors and trying to do the right thing was what they did, they couldn't help themselves. He supposed he should be happy, grateful even. They might not accept him and his sexual preference but at least they won't give him a hard time about it. But he wasn't happy, he hated that. He preferred that they would resent him, hate him, for him, for what he was, as long as this was what they really thought. Yet he was Harry Potter- the hero of the wizarding world, the poor orphan fated to face the Dark Lord and defeat evil or be defeated himself.
Over the years he had grown to accept this burdening sympathy from everyone. But he never managed to bring himself to like it. And in times like this the old resentment came flooding back.
Since the end of last summer his name never left the front page of the Prophet. When he came back to Hogwarts everyone started to look at him the way Ginny did for years, with absolute admiration and love (Well, most of the girls did. The boys just admired him). Harry had to admit it was slightly better than pity, but all he really wanted was for people to stop staring at him altogether. He wished this year would be over so he could leave Hogwarts and then finally vanish into obscurity and anonymity.
Right now he just wanted to be left alone. But that wasn't going to happen, he realized when he reached the tower and came across the very angry and offended Fat Lady. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down her nose at him. Harry didn't feel like dealing with the hurt feelings of portraits at the moment but before he could say anything she snapped at him, "How come you never told me! I've watched you sneak out of the tower ever since you were in your first year and all this time you were involved with a boy? With Mr. Finnigan!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "I wasn't involved with him all this time. Look, it's just…" before he could finish a ghost materialized from the wall beside the Fat Lady, and Nearly Headless Nick stood in front of him looking just as cross as the Fat Lady.
"Miss Granger asked me to find you," he informed Harry in his most official voice, not looking directly at Harry.
"Nick…"
"It's Sir Nicholas, if it's all the same to you," said the ghost haughtily. "I was under the misapprehension we were friends," he added with a hurt voice.
"We are," protested Harry.
"Then why, prey, was I not informed of this…" he waved his hand, "ordeal?"
This is not happening, thought Harry furiously, I am not standing here explaining myself to a bloody portrait and ghost!
"I heard the little girl from the toilet knew about it!" said the Fat Lady in an offended yet conspiratorial voice.
"You told Myrtle about this!" Sir Nick looked completely shocked. Harry couldn't tell whether it was because he thought Myrtle was too young to know such things or because she knew before he did.
"I didn't tell Myrtle about this!" Harry almost shouted. "She found out on her own…" he added almost to himself. Both the Fat Lady and Sir Nick looked scandalized.
Harry robbed his forehead and tried to think how to deal with the situation.
"Look, I'm sorry you had to find out like that. If it's any consolation, I didn't plan for it ever to be found out…" The look on both their faces informed him that, no; it wasn't much of a consolation. Harry sighed. "I can't deal with this right now…" he murmured and then looked up at the Fat Lady. "Fluffy fruitcake, and don't you dare make a joke about it!" he added warningly. She gave him a haughty look but swung open.
Inside the common room he found a rather interesting picture. Hermione, Ron and Lavender were facing what seemed the whole house. When she saw Harry, Hermione ran over to him.
"I see Sir Nicholas found you," she said.
"You could say that…" Harry said almost to himself. He looked up at her face and saw that sympathy. He gave her arm a little squeeze and headed for the stairs before she could say anything and before he could snap at her.
He lay on his bed and tried to think things over coherently. He didn't really care what the Prophet had to say, it couldn't possibly be worse than during fourth year when their vicious lies almost cost him his best friend. But he was worried about Seamus. Clearly the other boy wasn't prepared to face all this. He obviously feared his parents' reaction more than anything else and for the first time in his life Harry was quite pleased he didn't have this problem. If his father flipped over when he found out his two best friends were having it off what would he say if he ever found out his own son was a queer? No! That was definitely a blessing, of some twisted sort.
After a while the door opened and Ron poked his head around it. "Can we come in?" Harry wasn't particularly keen on talking to anyone but felt the current train of thoughts wasn't leading anywhere, and who knows, maybe his friends had insights he didn't posses. Soon he found himself sitting on his pillow with his knees drown to his chest and Ron, Ginny, Neville and Parvati all sitting on his bed around him.
"Where's Hermione?" asked Harry. It wasn't like her to miss out something like this.
"She's off to meet Terry Boot and go talk to the other houses," explained Ron. "McGonagall called the prefects after the game and told us that the official school stand is to support you no matter what the Prophet says."
"That's was very nice of her," said Parvati earnestly.
"I don't think she was being nice, I think she just really hates the Prophet. She'd probably support their hiding dragons if it would upset the Prophet," said Ron dryly and they all laughed, including Harry. The door opened again and Hermione slipped into the room, looking pleased over something.
"Well, Terry and I talked to the Hufflepuffs and the Slytherins, though I must say, they couldn't care less. Good thing they hate Gryffindors so much." She gave Harry a significant look when no one was looking and Harry suspected she got out of Terry more than she was letting show. He nodded, glad the others were there and she couldn't confront him on the subject.
"Where's Seamus?" asked Parvati, shaking Harry out of his thoughts.
"I killed him and buried him in the forbidden forest," answered Harry with a weary smile.
"That's not funny Potter!" she snapped while the others sniggered.
"He's still in the changing rooms, talking to Dean."
"That's great!" exclaimed Hermione. "I'm so glad you guys made up." Harry smiled at her.
"So, who was it that shouted during the match?" asked Ginny. Harry shrugged.
"Well, it wasn't anyone from our stand," said Neville.
"But that doesn't mean it wasn't a Gryffindor," said Hermione. "There were a lot of them among the Hufflepuffs. I think it's probably someone who overheard our conversation the other day." She sounded sad. "I'm so sorry Harry, I shouldn't have provoked you to talk about it in the middle of the common room."
"It's ok, Moine, it's not your fault." He put a comforting hand on her arm and she smiled at him. That horrible sympathy again, that always made him feel like he was a twelve year old kid who nobody trusted to do the right thing on his own. He reminded himself firmly that after all Hermione, and all of them really, only meant to help him. He should be grateful he had such good friends.
"It doesn't really matter who it was, the damage is already done. We need to figure out what to do next," said Ron in a businesslike tone. Everyone started to throw suggestion of what is to be done next. Harry sat and listened to them without saying a word. After covering the rational ways of dealing with the situation (which weren't many) people started throwing crazy ideas like running abroad or burning the Daily Prophet. Raiding it with dragons was another suggestion. When Seamus and Dean entered the room they found everyone sitting on Harry's bed laughing their hearts out. Seamus sat next to Harry half leaning on him, but apart from that they did not touch each other. Yet they still drew a simple comfort from each other's presence and Harry was mightily glad he wasn't alone in this.
Author's note: When you read the part with Nearly-Headless-Nick and the Fat Lady just imagine John Cleese and Dawn French… That's what I did, and I found it hilarious.