A/N: As always, thank you for the reviews. I've changed my pen name to 'Loraine's My Name,' so take note of that, if you please. There's also a problem with a thirteen year-old maniac who not only has no place writing a story including graphic sex scenes, but is also claiming that I stole this story idea from her, disregarding the fact that I posted this up about a year before she did. So now she's threatening to report me if I don't take this down. Too bad, this is staying up (as if I'm really going to take this down when I only have three more chapters to go after this one).
And by the way, I've no idea when the second Quidditch match at Hogwarts usually takes place.
PS- This chapter has been edited (yes, already).
Secrets
Chapter X: A Row
Exasperated, I look at the team. "Okay, guys," I say, "I guess we're just going to have to start without Harry. In the meantime, run some basics."
I put my hand above my eyes to shield them from the sunlight and squint toward the castle for Harry's figure. He's nowhere in sight. Why the hell isn't he here? Tomorrow is our second match of the Quidditch season against Slytherin. I told Harry how important it was for him to come to this practice on time. I've spent hours devising tactics. I've had people spy on the other team. I worked so damn hard last night to put a good play together, adding the finishing touches, and today we need to spend a good number of hours practicing it.
Every player needs to hear exactly what they need to do and what to watch out for. Harry's the damn Seeker; he should know that his part is extremely important. He's been on the team longer than I have, and should be even more pumped up about winning the cup than me.
And he's been so competitive since the beginning of the year, so I don't understand the change. He's been practicing on his own practically everyday. Well, at least he was until he started acting like a prick.
I sigh.
I'm so sick of this crap! If he knows something about me and Hermione, why doesn't he just punch me and give me hell for it, or tell me he understands? It'd be a lot better than him roaming around acting like some idiot right out of the Twilight Zone (whatever that means).
I just know that he knows something about Hermione and me. Hermione keeps insisting that it has to be something else, but I really doubt it. I think she's in denial. I don't know how Harry would know anything, but I'm almost completely positive that that's what it is. If it was something else, he'd tell us about it. And he wouldn't be making creepily convenient comments about friendship in every conversation.
I honestly just want to finish this. I want to tell Harry everything. I wish he'd just come out and say whatever he knows so that I could explain. Still though, Hermione has a right to fix her relationship with him. I wish she'd do it soon. . .
A wave of doom starts to wash over me. Today is the first of February and Hermione still hasn't done anything to change the current situation. She's all wound up with the idea that she just has to find out what Harry's problem is. She says she wants to make sure he's not going through something serious before she goes and drops the news on him and makes him even more depressed that he already is. She ignores me when I tell her that Harry's problem is us.
I clench my fists.
If Harry knows something, it'd be better to go up to him right now and put an end to this. Not to keep playing it out as if everything really is perfectly fine and normal. It's time we start acting like Gryffindors instead of cowards. It'll be a hard scene to live through, but we've got to face it. Besides, I have things to ask Harry anyway.
I look around at the team; everyone's getting warmed up. Seriously, where fuck could Harry be? What's he doing? He's forty damn minutes late! It's completely unacceptable. And I've reminded him about this practice everyday for the past week, including this morning at breakfast! He can't have forgotten.
He's doing it on purpose.
I sigh, my insides boiling. I guess we should just do this without him.
"Everyone pay attention!" I shout. "Harry's not here but we need to go over the plan. . ."
(L)(A)(T)(E)R
After four hours of rough practice, I exit the locker room, feeling uneasy and more pissed off than before. Harry didn't show up at all. At all. He didn't even manage to be incredibly late. He was just a no-show. I swear, whatever his reason is, it'd better be a good one. If he doesn't come clean about his problem now, I'll explode.
Now I'm going to have to spend time with him alone telling him how everything's gotta happen tomorrow.
Irritated, I start looking for him. Now. . .where would he be? Not in the library. Not in the kitchens; dinner passed half an hour ago. I'll have to thank him for making me miss it.
Maybe he's in the common room. With my broom over my shoulder, I begin my walk to the Gryffindor common room. It's been quite a while since I've been there, I realize. I miss the place. Having a nice big private dorm and common room is nice, but I always enjoyed talking to the guys at night and just hanging out by the fire in the common room with my fellow Gryffindors near me.
Not that I don't enjoy being alone with Hermione, because I do; it's just that I was always more myself with the other Gryffindor guys around. Being so isolated from everyone and being alone with the person whom I share a huge problem with is like a constant reminder that something bad is going to happen eventually.
By now, we're both agreed we have to tell Harry. It's just a matter of breaking it to him at the appropriate moment. It'd also be a good idea to tell him at a time when things aren't so shaky.
Which is why I'm anticipating seeing him a little. I don't think I'll be able to keep calm when I get a hold of him.
I reach the Fat Lady's portrait, give her the password, and stroll into the common room, which is buzzing with activity. I search for Harry for a few minutes, and can't see him.
Neville, who is sitting at a table with Trevor, looks up at me and smiles. I walk up to him and ask him if he knows where Harry is. He nods.
"He's up in the dorm," he says. "He's been pretty quiet all day. Wasn't he supposed to be at practice?"
"Yeah," I say, a little fiercely. "So is he sick or something?"
He frowns for a moment then shakes his head. "I don't think so. But he does seem a little strange lately."
I sigh. Figures. "Well, thanks Neville." I say. "I'll just go up and see him."
"Good luck tomorrow!" I hear him say as I walk away.
I start to walk up the stairs to my old dorm, feeling a mixture of nostalgia, anger, and nervousness hit me all at the same time. Pushing all thoughts aside and clearing my mind, I open the door to Harry's room as soon as I reach it.
He looks up from something he's writing at his desk, rolls his eyes as soon as he sees me, and turns back around to continue writing. Irritation wells up from me.
"So what was that for?" I snap.
"What was what for?" he says tonelessly, his back to me.
"The little eye-roll you just gave me," I say savagely.
He shrugs and doesn't say anything. It rattles my nerves immensely, and I have to put all the energy within me to restrain myself from hitting him. I take a deep breath.
"And you missed practice because of what?" I demand, unable to keep the anger out of my tone.
"I was busy," he answers, still not facing me.
At these words I feel like throwing up. "Busy?" I seethe. "You busy after I gave you a million reminders that today would be an important day to be at the field?"
"That's right."
For a moment, I'm speechless. "With what?" I growl.
I hear him give an exasperated sigh. "With nothing that concerns you."
My breathing is becoming shorter and shorter with every second that passes. He's angry at me, that's obvious, but I don't think it could rival how mad I feel towards him right now. Or for the past couple of years, when I think about it. If I wanted to, I could hurt him so badly right now. I'm better off than him physically. . .
Control yourself.
Slowly, I take a deep breath. Tomorrow's the match, don't be stupid.
"Fine." I spit. "But are you planning on going to the match tomorrow? Or will you be 'busy?'"
He stops moving his quill across the piece of parchment he's writing on and sighs once more. "It so happens that I do plan on going tomorrow."
"Good." I say, teeth clenched. "Then just remember to pay attention carefully to everything. You can't catch the snitch before we're at least eighty points in the lead, got it?"
He nods, not bothering to face me still.
"All you have to do is pay attention to the math." I say, my voice shaky with annoyance. "Don't fuck it up."
(T)(H)(E)-(M)(A)(T)C(H)
"Come on, Danny!" I shout from my goalpost, watching as one of the team's new Chasers soars across the field towards the Slytherin hoops.
I take a sharp breath as he raises the Quaffle in his arm and throws is fiercely at the middle hoop and. . .it gets stopped by that oily-skinned brat, Neil Rogers.
I curse loudly. This game is getting to be infuriating. None of the Slytherins are behaving the way they were at their practices, and the signals I told my team to watch out for haven't shown once throughout the whole match.
We've scored eleven times and the Slytherins, eighteen, putting us down by seventy points. Their success in scoring so much has really started to get on my nerves. The entire opposing team has brooms that fly ten times as fast as any Gryffindor's broom. I just hope Harry manages to out-fly Malfoy when the time in question comes. . .or that my Chasers score more and that I save more goals.
". . .and now Nathan Willowsky from Slytherin clutches the Quaffle safely in hand. . .he races past Ginny Weasely. . .pushes Kevin Stone aside. . .he's getting closer to the goalposts. . ."
As I hear some girl's voice commentating the match, I grip my broom tighter, and prepare myself to save this goal. I look directly at Willowsky, who's about twice my size and has never looked more ferocious, and tell myself to focus. Ginny and the other Chasers are racing behind him, but they'll never reach him in time.
Willowsky raises the ball and throws it like a bullet at the hoop to my right. I lunge for it, but miss narrowly.
"Damn it!" I shout, feeling more impatient than ever.
". . .and now it's one-ninety, to one-ten, Slytherin!" comes the commentator's voice. She sounds awful happy. Must be a Slytherin, I think to myself.
". . .now Weasley clutches the Quaffle. . ."
I gaze down at Ginny, who has managed to get a hold of the ball, flying as fast as she can at the other end of the field. Come on. . .
Two Slytherin Chasers start getting closer to her, and they surround her from either sides. One tries to make a grab for the ball, but Ginny grips it tighter. The other girl tries to take it now, but fails as well. It seems like she's going to make it, she starts to raise the ball to throw it, but suddenly she drops it as a Bludger hits her hard on the back.
Furiously, I look at Henry Farrow, one of the opposing Beaters, cackling with joy.
Ginny stops to rub her back, and one of the Chasers who was trying to get the Quaffle, gets it and starts to fly towards me.
Okay. . . This is it. Save it!
She zooms past everyone on the field with her high-powered broom, and launches the ball at my direction. I hurl myself at it and clutch the red ball in a tight grasp, and sigh with relief.
If I save more goals, maybe we can catch up and beat them. . .
Except, I don't. Over the next ten minutes, the Slytherins score nine more times, and stop every single Chaser who was tried to score for Gryffindor. This is a nightmare. With every goal that I miss, I feel myself getting angrier and more flustered and my concentration level lowers even more.
My stomach tightens as Irene, one of my Chasers grabs the Quaffle, and tries to score.
Come on, just score!
But Neil Rogers manages to catch the ball neatly, as though making no effort. It isn't fair. With their brooms, they can win at everything.
". . .and Potter seems to have spotted the Snitch, and is going after it. . ."
What!
. . .not a very smart idea, if he catches it, his team still loses by twenty points. . ."
With bulging eyes and my jaw dropped, my gaze follows Harry as he swerves past everyone on the field after a tiny, golden ball.
". . .making a very stupid mistake and Draco Malfoy is all too willing to let him make it. . ."
My gaze falls upon Malfoy who is sitting on his broom with an expression full of bewilderment, surprise, and most of all hilarity, as he watches Harry flying after the Snitch with folded arms. Everyone on the field has stopped to watch him as well.
". . .the Gryffindors seem a little shocked by this, and the Slytherins seem to be very content with Potter's attempt to catch the Snitch. I must say, what is Potter thinking? Surely, I'm speaking loud enough for him to hear. . ."
But Harry hasn't stopped. And five seconds later, his fingers are clasped tightly around the Snitch.
"And he catches it. Quite an original way to victory, but Slytherins win with a score of two-hundred and eightty to two-hundred and sixty. . ."
And for the first time ever, the whole stadium is quiet after a Quidditch match ends.
(L)(A)(T)(E)R
I don't think I've ever been angrier in my entire life. Ever. Game plan understood or not, that was mistake Harry should not have made. I and five other angry Gryffindors enter the locker room to find Harry, already dressed in normal clothes.
For a moment, there's only silence in the room as everyone stares at Harry, both confused and angry. Then Josh Peck speaks up.
"What the hell was that?" he asks, with an expression that looks full of shock.
Harry shrugs. "I don't know."
There's a stunned silence. I can feel everyone around me exchanging glances with each other, but I'm focused on Harry. I just can't believe it's gotten this bad, and he still hasn't spoken a word.
"You don't know?" I say murderously. "How do you not know what that was all about? That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen someone do!"
"It was a mistake," he says simply.
"A mistake?" I ask, seething.
"Yeah," he says, still with that simple tone, "I added wrong in my head."
"You added wrong?" says Irene, looking at Harry disbelievingly.
He nods. "Uh-huh."
Five jaws drop around me. Mine gets clenched tighter. My fists do the same.
"And you didn't hear anything that the commentator was saying?" I demand. "You didn't find anything funny about how you were the only one still moving out there? You didn't find it odd that Malfoy was just sitting back while you chased after the Snitch?"
Harry stops and thinks. "Hmmmmmm. . ." he mutters in tilted tone. "Now that you mention it, I did wonder for a second there. . ."
My eyes narrow. "And you just happened to forget that I told you to wait until we were eighty points up too, did you?"
He bites his lip and pretends to concentrate hard. "I must have forgotten that, yeah."
"What the hell?" someone mutters. Behind me, the team starts to whisper.
Harry sighs and mounts his broom over his shoulder and starts to walk towards the door, but is blocked by six bodies. He stops right in front of me and says, "Do you mind? I can't get through."
And it's as if, an explosion bursts within me. With all my might, I push him back, my anger bursting to be released.
"Yeah, I mind!" I shout loudly. "What the fuck is your problem?"
"Ron!" I hear Ginny say. Someone grabs my arm, but I shake them off, and keep my gaze on Harry, who hit a locker and is staring at me with an almost mocking expression.
"What's my problem?" he laughs.
"You heard me!" I burst. "Just tell me what it is so we can settle it now!"
"Ron," says Janet Stout from behind me, "it's just a game, don't take it that seriously!"
"Shut up!" I yell at her, making her shrink back in fright. "It's not 'just' the game!" I turn to Harry. "Is it, now?"
He glowers at me with a look of pure venom. Screw what Hermione said. If it has to come out now, it's coming out. I can't take it anymore.
"Okay guys," I hear Ginny say, "I think we should leave them alone. . ."
There's a murmur of frightened agreement among them, and they leave. After the door slams shut, we remains alone, glaring at each other in silence. We're silent for a few moments. Harry is giving me the nastiest look anyone has ever given me, and I'm doing the same.
"So you planning on saying anything?" I snap after a few minutes.
"Why should I?" he spits.
"Why shouldn't you?" I retort.
He smirks. "I don't think I'm the one that should have to."
Deep inside me I feel a familiar glint of doom light up, to be quickly quelled by anger. "And who are you expecting to do the job for you?" I demand.
He scoffs. "Are you serious?"
I feel a little uneasy at this question. I don't want to come across as a prick. Of course I know he wants me to say it. But honestly, I'm too hostile at him for taking Hermione away from me to care. It's him that started this, really. Taking a friend's object of affection is worse than taking someone's. . .not object of affection, in my opinion.
"Yeah, I am." I snap. "Are you gonna answer andtell me what's wrong, or are you just gonna keep it your own secret forever?"
He looks at me innocently. "Would it be a problem if I kept it a secret? I mean, you must keep some from me every now and then, right?"
I glare at him, but say nothing.
He laughs. "See you later, Ron."
(L)(A)(T)(E)R
I walk into my common room about an hour later to be alone. Now I'm starting to question my approach to Harry. If he was angry before, he's probably furious now. As pissed as I am with him. . . I don't want to lose him forever.
I sigh and make my way to the dormitory. Slowly, I open the door and yawn.
Great.
"Ginny, what the hell are you doing here?" I ask, extremely annoyed once again.
My sister is currently sitting on my bed, reading my post as if it's completely okay for her to do that. She looks up at me anxiously.
"I want to talk to you," she says. She puts down my letters and stares at me. "You didn't fight Harry, did you?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Good," she says. "You were pretty stupid back there, you know."
I glare at her in disbelief. "How was I stupid?" I demand. "Did you not see what he did?"
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I saw," she says, exasperated, "and don't blame him for doing it!"
Suddenly it hits me. I give Ginny the most disgusted look I've ever given her. "It was you, wasn't it?" I ask.
She frowns. "What?"
"You told him about Hermione and me, didn't you?" I say. "You just couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you?"
She gives me a stony look. "For your information, I didn't tell Harry a thing." she says in a very articulate tone. "He must have figured it out himself."
"So he knows, does he?" I ask, feeling a strange feeling of panic rise within me. What is it with me? One second I want him to know, the next I don't.
She shrugs. "I'm guessing so. He's hasn't told me anything, but it's the only conclusion I can think of."
I sigh. "So what do you want?"
"I want you to tell him, Ron!" she snaps, suddenly. "I'm sick of seeing the three of you acting like this! It's a misery!"
"Yeah, well, it's not so easy, is it?" I say sarcastically.
"No, and it shouldn't be!" she yells. "But it should be a lot better than going on the way you are now!"
I say nothing and she carries on.
"Honestly!" she bursts, stomping her foot. "I don't understand why you and Hermione would do this--"
"You just wouldn't get it!" I scream. "You're not involved--"
"Doesn't matter! Betrayal is betrayal!"
"Yes it does matter!" I shout. "You don't know about everything that's happened! You have no right to judge!"
She opens her mouth, then stops. "You know what, you're not going to get it. But just do everyone a favor and end this situation now. You're driving Harry crazy! He lost the match to get back at you, you know!"
(L)(A)(T)(E)R
Hermione comes into the common room about forty minutes after Ginny leaves, looking confused and torn. She sits down next to me on a couch.
"I spoke to Harry." she says quietly.
I look at her. "And what happened?" I ask.
She frowns, staring into space. "I don't know. He's really angry at you, Ron."
I shrug. I can't say I feel a lot of emotion at this. I've spent all day wasting my emotions. I'm empty now. Tired, I sigh.
"And I'm angry at him," I say.
We're quiet for a while. Then, "So is he mad at you, too?" I ask.
She shrugs, still frowning. "That's what I don't understand, Ron." she says. "He was acting nicer than he's been behavingeversince we came back."
I laugh wryly. "I don't get it. I get all the shit thrown at me for betraying him, and you get a welcome hug. Doesn't make sense."
She twists her hands on her lap for a few moments. "I still don't think he knows."
I feel a stab of impatience in my stomach. "Of course he knows!" I snap. "Can't you see that by now?"
"Then why wouldn't he be angry at me?" she snaps back. "You said it yourself; it doesn't make sense!"
"It doesn't matter!" I retort. "Everything he said to me pointed at it!"
"Well, he told me that he's just glad he has me to get him through things like this!" she shouts. "He said he can't wait until Valentine's Day!"
"He's putting you on a guilt trip." I conclude.
"No he's not!" she insists.
I roll my eyes. I can't argue anymore today. "So what are you planning to do about it anyway?"
She looks at me. "About what?"
"Valentine's Day!" I snap again, losing my last nerve. Does everyone have to do this to me today?
"I'm going to tell him." she says. "It's the only thing I can do."
A/N: I like this chapter, personally. Very heated. And I'm glad I have you guys torn between sides. That's the goal.