Disclaimer: Snatching the rights to Harry Potter and the Wizarding World away from JK Rowling would be cathartic for me, but alas, I am not in the proper position to do such a thing. So I write fanfiction instead. Sigh.
Chapter 52
"Sirius," Harry groaned as he practically stumbled into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place on the morning of August 25th, "help." His hand was fervently rubbing his forehead, desperately trying to alleviate the pain emanating from his infamous scar.
"Hmm…staggering down the stairs first thing in the morning with a headache? Break into Moony's stash of Merlot, did you?" Sirius chuckled as he glanced over the top of the Daily Prophet. "I know a potion or two that could help. I'm assuming this is your first hangover?"
"Scar."
Any trace of amusement that had previously resided in Sirius Black vanished instantly. He practically vaulted the kitchen table and guided Harry into a chair, prying the boy wizard's hand away to get a look at the lightning-shaped memento from that fateful Halloween in Godric's Hollow. "How bad?" He asked gruffly, dropping a hand to cup his godson's cheek. "Can you see alright?"
"Fine," Harry winced, "it's just…it hurts like hell."
"When did it start?" Sirius pursed his lips in concentration as he darted his eyes between Harry's and the scar.
"It woke me up. A few minutes ago. Like I was being branded with a poker."
"I take it this doesn't happen often?"
"It hasn't happened in a while."
"When was the last time it hurt?" Sirius peered into Harry's eyes as if looking for clues as to what was causing his godson pain. "How did it go away then?"
Harry hesitated, sitting up straight in his chair and fidgeting slightly. "The only time it's ever hurt was when Voldemort was nearby in my first year."
Sirius blinked in surprise before his intense expression returned. He took a few deep breaths as if processing what Harry had just revealed. "Well…shit."
"Yeah." A pregnant pause ensued as the Marauder moved back to his original seat at the kitchen table, now across from Harry. Both were deep in thought, Harry awkwardly summoning his wand from his holster before returning it and Sirius drumming his fingers on the tabletop.
"Tell you what," Sirius suddenly stood up, flicking his wand. A roll of parchment zoomed into the kitchen from what must have been the library, accompanied by a bottle of royal blue ink and an eagle-feather quill. "I'm going to send a letter to Dumbledore because that sounds…bad. I'm not trying to freak you out, but I also don't want to lie to you, and objectively…this seems bad. It might not actually be bad, but there's a decent amount of evidence suggesting that it could be bad." Harry's stomach plummeted, and he slumped in his seat a bit. Sirius paused, twirling the quill in his fingers before turning back to Harry. His trademark wry grin returned. "But hey, in the meantime, how about you focus on the fact that Hermione is getting dropped off here in an hour? And on the fact that we're all off to the Quidditch World Cup today?"
"Sirius – "
"Harry, I'm about to consult the most powerful sorcerer in the Wizarding World. Right now, you do not need to worry. You do, however, need to make sure you're packed. And you need to make yourself look presentable for a certain witch."
Harry nodded slowly, cracking a grateful smile. "Thank you. For, for the letter. I wasn't sure if I should bother Dumbledore, I – "
"I bothered Dumbledore plenty when I was in school. He's used to it from me." Sirius threw Harry a wink. "Now, go shower and get excited about today. Oh, and make sure you grab that money-pouch I gave you. You remember how to use it?"
"Open it and whisper how much money I need and it appears," Harry recited. Sirius smirked and gave him a thumbs-up.
"Go get ready."
Harry grinned, leaping out of his chair and dashing up the stairs to get ready for the day. After a quick shower and vain efforts to make his hair look even remotely neat, he returned to his bedroom and finished packing his Muggle gym bag with enough clothes to last the night and next day, in addition to leaving room for souvenirs. Soon enough he was dressed inconspicuously in a black hoodie and jeans with his bag slung over his shoulder as he paced the entrance hall. His snitch – courtesy of Hermione – zipped around him as he repeatedly caught and released it while moving up and down the corridor, practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. His scar was already pressed to the back of his mind – he had much happier things ahead of him.
Not long after he began pacing the hallway, Hermione and her parents arrived. After quick and pleasant greetings and Sirius charming the dentists, they wished Hermione well and left her with her belongings at Grimmauld Place, making both Harry and Hermione promise to write to them.
"Well," Sirius chuckled as he closed the front door, leaving him and the two teenagers in the entrance hall, "they're quite nice. No surprise they raised such a wonderful young woman."
Hermione blushed at his praise. "Sirius, do you mind if I drop my belongings in my room before we leave?"
"Not at all, not at all!" He grinned. "Harry, would you be so kind as to show Madam Granger her room?"
Harry picked up Hermione's trunk and rolled his eyes at his godfather's antics, but threw Hermione a smile and motioned for her to follow him to the staircase. "I'm actually rather proud of how I set up your room. Sirius used another color-changing spell because your bed had these dreadful pearly curtains, so now it looks more like your Gryffindor bed. Assuming boys and girls both have scarlet and gold curtains?" He turned to Hermione expectantly.
"The girls' beds actually have Slytherin colors," She shrugged.
"Wait, seriously?"
"You know, every once in a while, I think you've reached the limit as to how dense a human being can be, and yet every time you manage to prove me wrong." Hermione rolled her eyes before smirking at him. "They're Gryffindor colors, yes. Thank you for doing that."
"I also did most of the decorating myself," Harry continued, ignoring his girlfriend's jab and sporting a smug smile as they reached the third-floor landing, "for a bit I was considering plastering the walls with Quidditch posters just to annoy you."
"But?" Hermione asked warily as they reached the mahogany door directly across from Harry's room.
"See for yourself." Harry, whose hands were occupied with Hermione's trunk, gestured for her to open the door. She did so and cautiously entered the room, only to gasp and clap her hands over her mouth. "Knew it," He chuckled, carefully placing her trunk at the foot of the bed and turning to her, still holding his smug expression.
On the far wall lay a set of bookshelves containing dozens of ancient texts that Harry had transported from the Black family library to this room. Hermione dashed over and took a moment to drag her finger along the spines of one of the many rows before turning back to Harry. She looked like she was about to say something before she caught sight of the posters on the opposite wall and was rendered speechless once again. Harry felt his heart swell with pride as he followed her gaze to the photographs from the album she'd given him enlarged to resemble posters.
One of them was of Harry and Hermione in the common room on their couch, snuggled up against one another as they dozed peacefully. They had an enormous scarlet blanket draped over them, and Hermione was nuzzling her head into Harry's chest like she was trying to dig a hole in his shirt, to which they both gave blissful smiles as their eyes remained closed. The other picture-poster was of the two teenagers during their photo session courtesy of Angelina Johnson in Hogsmeade. It was the first one she'd taken, where Hermione had her head resting on Harry's shoulder and they were both grinning from ear to ear.
"Harry, you did all this?" Hermione whispered, stepping towards him, still transfixed by the room around her.
"Well, I obviously couldn't do the magic…" Harry shrugged. "But otherwise, yeah. Do you like it?"
"Harry Potter," she turned and stepped in front of him, bringing her hands up to his shoulders, "saying I liked it would be the understatement of the century." Harry gave a grateful smile at that. "When do we need to leave for the World Cup?" She asked, drawing patterns on Harry's shoulders with her fingers.
"Er…we're using a Portkey. But we don't have to leave at a specific hour, which is nice."
"So we aren't pressed for time?" Hermione fluttered her eyelashes, simultaneously sending Harry's brain into overdrive and turning it completely numb. He could only shake his head in response, to which she smirked before dragging her hands up his neck and into his hair, pulling him forward with an unexpected ferocity.
Harry couldn't help but be surprised at her intense kissing, but it didn't take him long to recover and reciprocate her actions. Every time they parted she let out a whimper, begging to continue, and with each sound Harry felt his blood turn to liquid fire in his veins. Her hands were positively relentless in roaming his hair, constantly moving compared to his stationary hands on her hip and the small of her back. She enjoyed the contact nonetheless, shivering every time he moved his thumb in circles and pressing herself closer to him almost frantically.
Frantic. That was a good way to describe their kisses. Just a shade below desperate and a tad above frenzied. Harry's heart was thudding against his chest hard enough and fast enough to fracture his ribs, but all he could think about how unbelievably good it felt to be snogging the daylights out of Hermione Granger.
Naturally, it was no small feat for Harry to pull himself away from the positively steamy kiss.
"Hermione…" He panted, forcing himself to pry his lips away and rest his forehead against hers. She whimpered again, moving to resume their thoroughly enjoyable activity, but he shook his head and kept his mouth at a safe distance. "Sirius will be wondering where we are. We were supposed to just drop your stuff off and come back down."
Hermione just pouted, jutting her bottom lip out so that it was barely an inch away from Harry's face. "But I really missed this."
"Yeah, me too…" He was still panting, forcing himself not to look at her very soft, very inviting lips. "Come on, we've got an entire week ahead of us to make up for lost time." He stepped away, forcing her hands to fall from his hair back to her sides. He took one of her hands in his and led her out of the bedroom, casting one last glance at the room he had worked hard to make sure she'd enjoy. He couldn't help but be surprised that the windows hadn't fogged up considering how passionate their snogging had gotten, but he shrugged, grabbing Hermione's overnight bag from the floor on his way out.
Hermione was slowly recovering from their…reacquainting. Her cheeks were a bit flushed and her eyes still seemed glazed over, but they quickly lit up in excitement as the pair descended the staircase. "I'm so excited to see everyone! Parvati and Lavender will already be there, I think. Lavender wrote to me that she was spending a couple of days with the Patils before they all went together. I think they got there last night."
"All the guys are there too!" Harry grinned, recalling the letters he'd gotten. "Ron brought Neville along and he stayed at the Weasleys' place for a day before they left. They were supposed to leave early this morning, I think. Dean and Seamus are going together too, with Seamus's mum. They are – unsurprisingly – rooting for Ireland, and I think they've been there for a couple of days."
"Who will you be rooting for?" Hermione tilted her head in curiosity as they reached the kitchen, where Sirius was waiting, staring intently at a phonebook on the table.
"Ireland. They've got an incredible lineup – especially the Chasers. I thought Angelina and Alicia and Katie were in sync but…Merlin, they're something else from what I've read," Harry mused, turning to his godfather, who was frowning. "Sirius has a bit of a problem with my allegiance."
"I just can't understand how a prodigious Seeker like yourself doesn't feel even slightly inclined to root for another prodigious Seeker," The Marauder rolled his eyes.
"Who is he talking about?" Hermione asked as she took her bag from Harry's hands and slung it over her shoulders.
"Viktor Krum," Harry rolled his eyes. "He's Bulgaria's Seeker. Not much older than us, actually. I won't deny, he's bloody brilliant at Seeker. But he's one player, and Quidditch is a team sport, so I have more faith in the Irish team. Plus, Seamus is Irish and I like Seamus, so Ireland all the way. If I rooted against him he'd probably set me on fire somehow."
"Well, Quidditch might be a team sport, but Seeker is by far the most important position," Hermione shrugged teasingly.
"Not you too!" Harry groaned, rolling his eyes once again. "Take it from me – a Seeker. Gryffindor would have been clobbered without someone as talented as Wood playing Keeper, and without brilliant Chasers like the ones we've had, and without Fred and George being some of the best Beaters our house has ever seen. It doesn't matter how decent of a flyer I am when I've got a team like that."
"Sirius, did you know that Slytherin was once beating Gryffindor eighty to nothing, and they only won because Harry caught the Snitch? With a broken arm?" Hermione threw Harry and elbow and a mocking smile as the lone star Seeker in the room blushed furiously.
"Can we just go now?" He mumbled, averting his eyes. Both Hermione and Sirius let out quick laughs.
"Well, it seems like now is as good a time as any to depart," Sirius grinned. "You two have your belongings?" The teenagers nodded. "You're ready?"
They nodded again, and Sirius pointed to the phonebook on the table.
"That's the Portkey?" Hermione asked.
"Indeed it is. Grab on."
They obliged, and Sirius followed suit, gripping one of the corners. After a few seconds, Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward, subjecting him to a howl of wind that roared in his ears louder than anything he could ever remember. Then, just as suddenly as he'd been yanked off his feet, Harry felt his trainers collide forcibly into a grassy plane. He swayed as he landed, inadvertently leaning into Hermione, who was on equally shaky footing.
She stumbled into him, sending them both crashing into the ground with groans of pain and surprise. Harry blinked a few times, moving the shoulder he'd landed on to make sure it wasn't dislocated. He looked up to see Hermione draped over his abdomen, her always wild hair looking particularly windswept. She caught his eye and blushed at their compromising position, scrambling off gracelessly and getting to her feet. Harry did the same, ignoring the wolf-whistle from his godfather, who was standing perfectly fine, as if he'd enjoyed his journey.
"Twelve years, I can still handle Portkeys like nothing," He smirked to himself. "Come on, we've got a campsite to find!" He reached into the bag slung over his shoulder and extracted what Harry knew to be a magical tent. Hermione slipped her hand into Harry's as they walked along in what looked like a perfectly normal stretch of woods. Before they knew it, however, they were surrounded by a sea of tents and the air was crackling with magic.
Soon enough, they had reached a fairly small patch of grass upon which a small sign hammered into the ground read BLACK. And next to it, in front of two traditional two person tents was a sign that had WEEZLY carved into it.
"Harry! Hermione!" The teenagers in question turned to see Ron and Neville crawling out of their tent, grinning from ear to ear. The four of them quickly exchanged greetings and friendly embraces.
"How's the leg, Ron?" Sirius teased as he flicked his wand. Magically, the tent he had brought with them began to set itself up, impaling stakes into the ground and lashing ropes to and fro until a four-person black and gold canvas tent had been erected within seconds.
"Good as new!" The redhead grinned at the Marauder. "Hey, I know some people I think you should meet. Fred! George!" He crouched down and hollered into the tent. Immediately, a familiar pair of twins emerged, looking as mischievous as ever.
"Hello, lovebirds!" Fred grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder.
"Tie the knot yet?" George teased. "You better not have. I've got money on the summer before your seventh year."
"I really missed this…" Harry shook his head in amusement, eliciting a small giggle from Hermione. The two of them quickly slipped into their tent, leaving Sirius to converse eagerly with the twins about the Marauder's Map and the best pranks they'd ever pulled at Hogwarts. The tent itself was quite spacious – it had three bedrooms, two smaller ones to the left and a master to the right, which Sirius had made a point of claiming. The furnishings were not unlike that of Grimmauld Place, although they were a tad nicer with a few elements from the 20th Century, including a fairly modern kitchen and a chic sitting area. Harry and Hermione quickly dropped their bags in their respective bedrooms before rejoining their cohort outside the tents.
"Here, Harry!" Ron thrust a jar of deep brown resin into his hands. "I didn't want Pig to have to carry this thing since it's three times his size and about ten times his weight. Happy belated birthday!"
Harry stared in amazement at the canister of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish, his mind traveling back to a hushed conversation between him and the redhead in the middle of Sirius's hearing. "You remembered?"
"Of course I remembered. I'm your friend, you tosspot." Ron punched Harry in the shoulder. Harry pulled Ron into a quick and totally manly hug before ducking back into his tent and placing his newest gift with the rest of his belongings. He returned to find the entirety of the Weasley boys had now joined them in the fresh air, which resulted in a sea of redheads. Harry finally had the pleasure of meeting Bill and Charlie Weasley, and had the distinct displeasure of seeing Percy again.
"So you're my successor, are you?" Charlie asked as he shook Harry's hand. "Ron's written quite a bit about you. Congratulations on winning the Cup last year."
"Oh…thanks…" Harry blushed, awkwardly running a hand through his hair. "I had a good team around me, though." He didn't even have to look to know that Hermione was beaming at him and Sirius was rolling his eyes. "How's Norbert doing?"
"Norberta, actually," Charlie chuckled, grinning at Harry's recollection. "She's a girl. And rather ferocious, I might add. She gave me this a few months ago." He pulled up the sleeve of his leather jacket to reveal a nasty burn mark on his forearm. Everyone who laid eyes on it winced, but Charlie seemed more excited than ever.
"Who are you lot rooting for?" Bill asked, cocking his head towards Harry and Hermione. "You better say Ireland. I'm trying to convince mum and dad to disown Ronald here for cheering for Viktor Krum."
"There's no one like Krum. He's a once in a generation player, how can I not root for the bloke?" Ron grumbled, but everyone else just snickered. "Whatever, at least Neville's got my back on this, right?"
"Uh…" Neville paled a bit, instinctively taking a step towards Bill. "Totally, Ron." The youngest male Weasley huffed, but everyone else just laughed again. Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes as he caught sight of Percy Weasley opening his mouth, but everyone in earshot was saved from the walking pile of pompousness when Ginny sidled up to the group, a familiar blonde-haired girl in tow.
"Luna!" Harry cried out in surprise.
"Harry! Hermione!" The Ravenclaw beamed at her friends. "It's quite nice to see you two again. How was your summer?"
"Brilliant! Yours?"
"Oh, it was wonderful. I went on a quick holiday with my dad to Sweden. We were looking for Crumple-Horned Snorckacks. He's been trying to sight one for quite a long time now, as he's been writing about them in The Quibbler since before I was born." She rocked back and forth on her feet, her lips curving into a dreamy smile.
"Crumble what now?" Harry blinked.
"The Quibbler?" Hermione bristled.
"Crumple-Horned Snorckacks. Luna's been going on about them for a while," Ron whispered to his friends. "They're not real."
"A lot of people don't think Crumple-Horned Snorckacks actually exist because they've never seen one," Luna's faraway tone remained unchanged, so she either hadn't heard Ron or didn't care. "Yet, Muggle-Borns often don't believe that magic is real until a Hogwarts professor comes to them on their eleventh birthday. Then, it turns out it's been real this whole time! Isn't that right, Hermione?"
The bushy-haired witch, who had been looking thoroughly unimpressed with Luna's believing in a seemingly non-existent creature, seemed at a sudden loss for words, so she just nodded.
"See?" Luna continued. "Maybe, in some cases, people just need to believe that something extraordinary is possible. That's what my dad is doing with Crumple-Horned Snorckacks. They're practically his life's work."
An awkward silence ensued as everyone mulled over the surprisingly sage words that Luna had uttered.
"Uh…neat!" Harry managed, nodding vigorously to compensate for his uncertain tone. A chorus of similar sentiments rang out, and Luna seemed particularly pleased.
"My dad writes about them all the time in The Quibbler, it's a magazine that he runs," She explained to Harry and Hermione.
"Oh, I need a subscription for that," Harry couldn't help but grin. "I have to see what this is about."
"Don't patronize her!" Hermione whispered under her breath. Harry wasn't sure if she didn't want him to pay money for such a ridiculous editorial or if she didn't want him to belittle her, but he didn't care. He was genuinely interested to see what The Quibbler had to say about a seemingly made-up creature, along with whatever else was published in it. He wasn't trying to insult her, he actually wanted the subscription.
Luna beamed at Harry's remark, and conversation mercifully returned to things that were known to exist. The four rising fourth-years discussed the upcoming school year, Ginny and Luna sneaked away, and the rest of the cohort returned to debating the upcoming Quidditch match.
"Who do you reckon is going to teach Defense this year?" Neville asked. "I'm going to miss Lupin."
"Hey, why isn't Lupin here?" Ron asked Harry and Hermione. "Doesn't he come over to see you and Sirius a lot?"
"Dumbledore put him on the search committee to find our next professor," Harry explained with a shrug. "He says it hasn't been easy. Nobody wants to take the position since it's basically cursed."
"Is Tonks coming?" Hermione turned to Harry curiously. "I didn't see her at Grimmauld Place."
"Since she's an Auror she's on the Ministry security team for this thing. She's been here all week, making sure nobody tries anything foul since there's so many people here," He explained before turning to a confused Ron and Neville "Tonks is an Auror and a relative of Sirius's. She's been coming to visit almost every day, she's actually really nice."
"Tonks?" Charlie Weasley turned away from the rest of the Weasleys and Sirius. "You know Tonks?"
"Oh yeah, wasn't she in your year?" Harry asked with a grin.
"Metamorphmagus? Total klutz? Insanely good at Defense?" The second-eldest Weasley smirked.
"That's the one," Harry grinned.
"Hey, why don't we try and meet up with the rest of the Gryffindor Gang?" Ron asked, motioning for them to slip away from the rest of the party. "Plus I want to get some souvenirs. I think I saw a stand selling limited edition Every-Flavored Beans."
The four of them quickly set off, searching for familiar faces amidst the labyrinth of tents and throngs of witches and wizards. It didn't take long for them to find the sea of green that was the Ireland fan section, where they quickly found Seamus and Dean. Soon after they found Lavender and Parvati – who were ecstatic to see Harry and Hermione holding hands.
"You are still together, right?" Parvati giggled once the entire Gryffindor Gang was assembled.
"Of course they are, Parv," Lavender rolled her eyes. "Honestly, they should save everyone the trouble and get married now."
"She's right, you know," Seamus snickered, ruffling Harry's hair as they began walking as a unit. "Why don't you propose now? You're just delaying the inevitable."
"Seamus, the second you find a girlfriend of your own I am going to tease the living shit out of you, you know that?" Harry rolled his eyes, to which everyone else – including Hermione – laughed. He groaned, to which Hermione leaned into his side and squeezed his hand.
"Wicked!" Dean's exclamation saved Harry from any more ruthless taunts as everyone followed his gaze. There was a cluster of tents and lean-to's erected selling all kinds of souvenirs and trinkets. Everyone immediately began shelling out for all kinds of pro-Ireland gear.
"Aww!" Lavender cooed as Harry delicately brushed away a few of Hermione's curls and tucked a shamrock behind her ear. Harry tried to give his blonde housemate a death glare but he knew his blush was betraying him. "Oh, don't look at me all angry. You're being a good boyfriend, isn't he Hermione?" She huffed before rifling through a stack of Irish pennants with Parvati. Both Harry and Hermione blushed and decided to not acknowledge that.
Harry pinned several shamrocks of his own to his hoodie, in addition to paying five Sickles for a temporary tattoo of the Irish flag on his cheek. "What do you think?" He turned to Hermione, who smirked at his new facial accessory before hopping on her tiptoes and planting a quick kiss on the tattoo.
"I like it. It's like target practice," She blushed before pecking him on the cheek again in the same spot. Harry's cheeks flushed red once again and he ran a hand through his hair nervously. Hermione settled for a green beanie with a leprechaun stitched into it, which Harry found utterly adorable on her, but he knew that saying those words in front of his male friends was a death sentence.
"Oi, Harry, what do you think?" Seamus called from a few meters away. Harry turned and had to fight the urge to burst out laughing. While Harry had settled for a tattoo not much larger than a postage stamp, Seamus had had his entire face coated in green, white, and orange to mimic the Irish flag.
"You can barely notice," Harry smirked as he flashed his housemate a thumbs-up. Ron didn't purchase any apparel for either team, instead opting to buy a figurine of Viktor Krum and ogle at it as it walked across his hand. Harry couldn't help but snort at the Seeker's appearance.
"Looks a bit like a vulture, doesn't he?" He raised an eyebrow and threw his redheaded friend an elbow.
"He flies like he's part vulture. It's possible," Ron's distant tone made it clear he wasn't exactly processing anything around him as he stared at his newest possession. Harry turned to Neville, who was sporting an enormous green hat not unlike the one his grandmother wore and the one he subjected his Boggart of Professor Snape to wear. Parvati and Lavender had twin green sashes and several shamrocks adorned on their jackets. Dean was juggling green buttons that read LUCK OF THE IRISH and featured someone in a Bulgarian uniform getting knocked off their broom by a Bludger.
Harry and Hermione wandered over to a cart piled high with brass binoculars that were covered in knobs and dials that reminded Harry of the buttons in Maverick's cockpit in Top Gun. "What are these?" He asked the salesman, tentatively picking one up and looking through it.
"Omnioculars," The balding wizard replied, lazily counting a stack of Galleons. "That knob there does instant replay, that there gives you slow motion, and they give you a play-by-play breakdown in real time. They're quite something."
"How much?" Harry asked excitedly, picking up another pair and handing them to Hermione.
"For two?" The wizard raised an eyebrow.
"For eight."
"Eight?" The older wizard blinked in surprise. "Well, usually they're ten Galleons apiece but nobody ever buys this many pairs. How about sixty-five?"
Harry dug into his pockets for his enchanted money-ouch. "Sixty-five Galleons," He said clearly before turning the pouch upside-down on the salesman's counter. A cascade of gold coins clattered out, much to the wizard's and Hermione's surprise. "Thanks!" Harry grinned before grabbing as many Omnioculars as he could carry. "Oi! Gryffindor Gang!"
A chorus of "Gryffindor Gang!" rang out from his housemates as they dashed over and each took a pair of the Omnioculars.
"Thanks, Harry!" Neville grinned, immediately gazing up at the sunset with his new binoculars only to cringe away and rub his eyes. "That wasn't my best idea…" He groaned, eliciting several snorts of laughter from his classmates.
"You sure, Harry?" Ron hesitantly grabbed a pair.
"I'm sure, mate," Harry nodded reassuringly. The redhead grinned and immediately began fiddling with the various knobs and dials. Once the Omnioculars had been properly distributed Hermione flung her arms around Harry's neck, beaming.
"You're really sweet, you know that?" She whispered before blushing as several members of the Gryffindor Gang snickered. "Oh…shut up," She mumbled, stepping away from Harry and dusting herself off.
Before long, a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field. The match was about to begin. Everyone issued quick goodbyes, promising to see one another on the Hogwarts Express in a week's time, before returning to their respective tents to get ready for the game.
On their way back, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville passed a pair of Aurors patrolling the grounds. One of them reached out and pulled Harry into a headlock so fast he could barely react before he was trapped.
"Wotcher, Harry!"
"Hullo, Tonks," Harry rolled his eyes as he weakly patted the pink-haired girl's arms. "Can you not choke me out in front of my friends? Please?"
"Ah, of course." She released Harry and ruffled his hair affectionately as he stood up straight. She turned to her colleague, a dark-skinned Auror who was looking rather exasperated. "Sorry, Kingsley. I thought he was a security threat. Honest mistake."
"It's good to see you too, Tonks," Harry smirked before the Auror, Kingsley, beckoned for the young woman to follow him. "Guys, that's Tonks," He explained to Ron and Neville. "The girl I mentioned earlier."
"She's rather fit isn't she?" Ron was watching her walk away. Harry smacked Ron on the side of the head, glaring. "Oi!"
"She's basically my sister at this point. Plus, she's twenty," Harry warned and Ron relented, but not before throwing one last glance at her. "Let's go get ready for the match, you little git."
"Welcome back, kids!" Sirius grinned, taking one last swig from a bottle of butterbeer as Harry and Hermione entered the tent, carrying their Omnioculars and clad in their Ireland gear. "You ready? We're in the same section as the Weasleys. I ended up outbidding another group of three who wanted to sit in the Top Box."
"Who was it?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "Do you know?"
"One of my rotten cousins and her husband and son. I suppose you two are familiar with the Malfoys?"
Harry and Hermione grinned at the prospect of Malfoy and his parents being outbid on such prestigious tickets, following Sirius along out of the tent and falling in with the Weasley clan. Ron and Neville slipped in next to them.
"Last chance to switch sides, Harry!" Ron teased, holding up his miniature figure of Viktor Krum. "You really want to root against the best Seeker in the world?"
"Yeah, actually, I do," Harry rolled his eyes but cracked a smile. "You want to make a bet on Bulgaria?"
"Three Sickles says Krum catches the Snitch," Ron grinned impishly. Harry shook his hand and they continued on their march. Hermione mumbled something about underage gambling to Harry's left but he just squeezed her hand and smirked at her. The walk up to their seats was agonizing, and Ron in particular was looking spent as they ascended one staircase after another.
"Cardio is the worst!" The redhead groaned. "I mean, it keeps you healthy, but Merlin, at what cost?"
Mercifully, they reached their seats and Harry and Hermione slipped into the front row of their box. Sirius sat on his left while Hermione was to his right, followed by Ron, Neville, the Twins, Ginny, and Luna. The rest of the Weasleys occupied the row above them. The seat directly behind Harry was filled by a familiar-looking creature, however.
"Are you a house-elf?" Harry spun around in his seat to face the bat-eared creature. She lifted her head and nodded slowly before glancing over the railing and covering her eyes once more.
"Winky," She squeaked. She lifted her head once again and Harry saw her eyes dart towards his scar. "You is Harry Potter!"
"Er…yeah. I is. I mean, I am." Hermione snorted next to him before turning to face the elf herself. "What are you doing here, er, Winky?"
"I must save a seat for my master. But I do not like heights. No no no, I do not like heights at all!" She squeaked after another panicked glance over the edge. "But I must do what I is told. 'Tis a house-elf's duty."
"Harry…" Hermione turned to him, a pleading expression in her eyes. "You need to free her."
"What?" Harry blinked.
"You've freed two house-elves already. Free Winky. Now. Look what her master is making her do! This poor thing is terrified of heights and he's making her sit in the tallest section of the stands!" Her voice was firm. Harry opened his mouth to try and appease her, saying he could try talking to whoever her master was, but he was interrupted.
"Winky is Barty Crouch's house-elf," Percy Weasley's snooty voice cut in. Hermione's eyes flashed with sheer rage and Harry felt his stomach plummet in fear for the redhead. "Barty Crouch is the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He organized this whole event, as well as several other very important happenings in the Wizarding World. Mister Crouch is a very influential wizard, and he needs Winky to be a diligent servant."
"I think you mean slave," Hermione's voice was dripping with malice, and everyone within earshot had the good sense to avert their eyes to avoid her wrath. "She is a living being and does not deserve to be subjugated by anyone simply because of her species. I don't care how important you claim Crouch is."
"Well!" He bristled, clearly unsettled by someone not treating his superior like the second coming of Merlin. "Even if you did manage to free Winky, don't you think every house-elf that has to do something they don't like will come crawling out of the woodwork?"
"I can only hope so."
Hermione's icy tone sent shivers down Harry's spine, and it clearly had a similar effect on Percy, who was not expecting that answer. He quickly turned away, furiously rubbing his spectacles on his robe.
"Ah…look…the mascots," Sirius tried to change the subject as casually as he could, twirling his wand and kicking his feet up on the banister in front of them. "They're usually some magical creatures from the respective country. You know, one time when I came here with your dad, Harry, one of the teams used dragons as their mascots. Two hundred thousand eyebrows singed off like that." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "It seems this year will be a tad different."
Harry and the rest of the occupants of their box leaned forward to see a hundred woman advance onto the field below them, their hair billowing out in slow-motions as they glided about. "Er…Sirius? Didn't you say they were magical creatures?" He raised an eyebrow at the sight below him. "They just look like women. Pretty women, granted, but – "
"Harry, they're Veela," Hermione placed her hand on his knee. "Don't you feel it?"
"Feel what?" He turned to Hermione, who was pointing at the rest of the males in the Top Box. Ron was actively drooling, Neville looked even more dazed than he usually did, and the Twins looked like they were fighting one another for the creatures' attention. "Oh…gross!" He winced.
"How come I'm not being gross like that?" Harry turned back to his godfather, who had his fingers in his ears. The Marauder tilted his head to signal he hadn't heard his godson's query. "How come I'm not being gross like that?" Harry repeated a bit louder.
"Maybe you've found your own captivating beauty," Sirius practically yelled. Harry's face grew hot, and he turned to his right to see Hermione was also blushing furiously. Even as she buried her face in her hands in embarrassment, Harry couldn't help but think that Sirius was onto something. Hermione Granger was nothing short of enchanting.
"You're really not affected by them?" She whispered timidly, her hand finding his once again as she met his eyes. "At all?"
"Not one bit," Harry grinned before leaning in and brushing his lips against Hermione's. "Veela are nothing compared to you, Hermione," He whispered as he pulled away. Hermione made a small sound of surprise in the back of her throat before beaming at him.
The sight of Hermione Granger's dazzling smile was enough to turn Harry's insides to jelly, and he suddenly related to the rest of the gaping males in the Top Box, even if his source of awe differed from them. If he had it his way, he would have spent the entire match just staring and smiling back at her. He was even willing to do that for the rest of the night, forgoing the tent after the game in favor of enjoying each other's presence up in their velvet seats. It would have been just a cherry on top of what had been a fantastic summer.
Of course, shit just had to hit the fan when the Dark Mark went up after the match.
A/N: Howdy! So, right off the bat, I didn't want to recount the entire Dark Mark and riot scene after the match, or even the match itself because Harry meeting Hermione on the Hogwarts Express does not affect those events whatsoever. Did you really want me to just rehash those events? I didn't. I did have a slightly different draft of the riot and Harry and Hermione running for cover in the woods that featured Harry punching Malfoy in the nose, but it was still too boring for me to consider publishing it. For my fellow Draco-despisers, I'll make it up to you. I promise.
Some references to note: Luna, in her defense of researching fantastical creatures has a quote from the movie A Beautiful Mind: "…need to believe that something extraordinary is possible." Ron quotes Ann Perkins from Parks and Rec as they are ascending towards their seats. The original quote used jogging instead of cardio, but I think it still has the same effect. And my personal favorite, "Don't you think every house-elf will come crawling out of the woodwork?" "I can only hope so." Is a reference to one of the West Wing's most powerful episodes In Excelsis Deo. The original exchange is very emotional, if you've never seen it I highly recommend looking it up.
To my wonderful, my incredible, my rock star loyal readers, I love you guys! Seriously, it made my day to see how much you guys enjoyed the last chapter, and I hope you like this one as well. You all make it that much more enjoyable to write this story. Thank you all for everything, and stay safe!