Chapter Eight

The next morning Harry had a wide smile stretched across his face. If anyone was to see it, they would immediately assume he had just had the best sex of his life. They would happen to be entirely correct.

Harry had been awake for a while. Due to the Stamina Charm he'd performed on himself he hadn't had much sleep, but he'd never felt more awake. He was sitting back against two pillows, arms resting behind his head, completely at ease as he watched the gentle rise and fall of Parvati's chest. She was snuggled against his side, arm slung over his stomach, with a contented smile playing on her lips. Her expensive perfume still clung to the air, invading his nostrils with every breath of air he inhaled, making him giddy and euphoric all at once.

There was a gap in the drapes around the bed, allowing the first few rays of sunlight to penetrate through the open window. It was accompanied by a gentle breeze, which ruffled Harry's hair. It caused goose bumps to form all over Parvati's naked body. Harry eagerly took in the sight. Her legs were long and uncovered, with one leg curled over the duvet. Her toenails were unadorned with nail polish, but pedicured; Harry's eyes trailed up her toned calves to her thighs, until a thin piece of black silk partially hid her hips. Her skin was several shades darker than his own, the colour of caramel and unmarred, and he burned the sight of her into his mind.

She was utterly mesmerising.

The shrill beeping of an alarm cut through the silence. Harry listened to someone clamber out of bed and walk towards the bathroom, until a door closed and the room was silent once more. Harry glanced down at Parvati, but the noise hadn't disrupted her sleep. Even though there were still a few hours until breakfast, he decided to wake her up, which turned out to be a harder task than he anticipated.

Parvati was a heavy sleeper. Harry brushed her hair from her forehead and whispered her name, but the only response he received was a low, satisfied moan. When he said her name again, she only snuggled deeper into the mattress. Harry thought about kissing her, but refrained at the last second. It felt too … romantic, somehow.

"Parvati," he said, slightly louder this time and closer to her ear. "It's time to wake up."

Finally, she showed signs of life. Her eyelids flickered, although remained closed, and her lips parted in a slight whine.

"Wha' time is it?"

"Just gone six," Harry replied cheerfully.

"Oh …" Parvati buried her head in the pillow with a groan, making her next words muffled. "Don't tell me you're a morning person."

"Not normally," admitted Harry. "But when you combine my wonky magic with a Stamina Charm, and then add a few hours of sex into the equation, I don't think I'd give a damn if I was murdered right this very second. In fact, I'm not sure anything can ever top this feeling."

There was a moment of silence in which Harry thought she had fallen back to sleep, but she eventually turned her head and looked at him with curious brown eyes.

"As good as it was, and I really wasn't expecting it to be that good," she said emphatically, "you make it sound like it was your first time."

"Well, in a way," said Harry, lightly shrugging, "I guess it was."

"Are you serious?" Parvati sat up sharply, capturing his attention. Her hair was loose from her normal style, falling messily over her shoulders. The shock on her face slowly gave way to a playful grin. "I can't believe the Chosen One lost his virginity to me!" She laughed in delight. "I was so sure you'd done it before."

"Before you get too cocky, I'm not entirely sure I was a virgin last night," said Harry. "Hermione and Ron said that I was, but I might not have told them."

"I always heard rumours, so I always assumed you had," said Parvati, biting her lip in thought.

While she was thinking, Harry became thoroughly distracted by her breasts. It was hard not be engrossed, when they were so close. Even though he'd become intimately familiar with them last night, it was nowhere near enough.

"My eyes are up here, Harry," said Parvati, grinning.

Harry's eyes flickered up to hers. "Yes, they are," he said, and then he lowered his gaze again. "But as lovely as your eyes are, they're never covered, so I'm making the most of this."

Chuckling under her breath, Parvati crossed her arms over her chest, making Harry groan with disappointment. He pouted at her, but she didn't budge.

"Sorry," she said, "but you can see them as much as you like tonight, if you want?"

"Damn right I want," Harry agreed instantly.

"Then you have to make sure you don't get a detention," she said, poking a finger into his thigh. "As fun as it was, I don't want to be up for half of the night again. I need my sleep, so we'll start early tonight."

"I'll be on my best behaviour," promised Harry.

"Good," she said, leaning forward to give him a lingering kiss. "We've got Potions this afternoon, so be extra careful. Snape's taken points off you before for breathing too loudly."

Harry privately thought it didn't matter if Snape gave him a detention, because he simply wouldn't attend. Nothing was going to stop him from another night with Parvati.

"You know, we've got a free period until we have to go to Potions," said Parvati, her voice taking on a suggestive tone. She teasingly trailed her fingernails up his thigh. "I have nowhere I need to be until then …"

"Oh, do you have something in mind?" Harry asked innocently.

"If you have somewhere else to be, just tell me to stop," she said, matching his tone as she leaned forwards to trail kisses down his chest.

Harry was enjoying the moment when a traitorous thought wormed its way into his mind.

"Actually," he said, grimacing, "Ron's holding Quidditch try-outs this morning and he's making me go."

"What?" Parvati paused, her lips millimetres from his skin, to look up at him. "I thought you were the captain?"

"I was, but I lost the captaincy after the knock to my noggin," said Harry, rapping his knuckles against his skull. "I forgot how to play the bloody game, so it's not all that surprising I lost it, really."

"And Ron's holdings try-outs today?" asked Parvati, disbelief in her voice. "We've been back for three days!"

"I said the same thing, but it makes sense if you think about it. As Ron explained, everybody's free to attend the try-outs this early in the year. No one is bogged down by homework or studying for upcoming exams."

"But haven't most people got classes this morning?" asked Parvati.

"McGonagall is allowing them to miss the morning classes," Harry told her. Parvati seemed baffled by that. "I wish I didn't have to bloody go, though. I haven't got the first clue how to play the damn game."

Parvati frowned. "I thought you loved flying?"

"Oh, I do," said Harry. "I just don't know how to play Quidditch."

"You're a Seeker," said Parvati, shrugging lightly. "All you have to do is chase the Snitch. It shouldn't be too hard."

"Maybe you should join the team, if you think it's so easy."

"Oh, I'm awful at riding a broomstick."

"You weren't too bad last night," muttered Harry, unable to stop himself.

Parvati snorted. "Neither were you, Potter. You handled it pretty well, considering you were a virgin. I nearly collapsed by the time we were finished."

Harry's chest swelled. He just wished someone else could have heard her comments, although he was still planning on bragging about it every chance he got. He wondered if Parvati would do the same. Probably. She'd seemed thrilled to find out she was his first.

"I was brilliant, wasn't I? Even when we were interrupted, I didn't stop. That takes control, doesn't it?"

Parvati burst out laughing. "Oh, I just remembered the look on Hermione's face!" she said. "I can't believe you asked her if she wanted to join in!"

Harry made a mental note to avoid Hermione for as long as possible. He wasn't sure what her problem was, but she'd looked completely pissed off with him. He couldn't think why … unless she was jealous. Yes, that was probably it.

"It shut her up pretty sharpish, didn't it? That was the only way to do it," insisted Harry. "She would've gone on all night otherwise."

"I suppose so …" A gleam entered Parvati's eyes, and she swung her leg over him, straddling his waist. "I don't suppose you fancy applying a few more charms, do you?" She smiled wickedly. "I fancy working up an appetite. Don't make a joke about sausages!"

"I wasn't going to," said Harry, failing to act offended. He welcomed the kisses she started trailing up his abdomen; he had a good view of her lower back and the curve of her derrière. Parvati raised an eyebrow, doubting his words. "What? I wasn't. Really. Now, eggs on the other hand …" He starting chuckling to himself, remembering the joke Fred had told him. "How do you like your eggs in the morning?"

"Unfertilised," said Parvati, rolling her eyes. "Speaking of, it's lucky I perform the Contraceptive Charm on myself every six months, isn't it? I would've completely forgotten last night."

"I performed something similar," said Harry. There was no way in hell he would just leave that to the girl he was sleeping with. He'd performed three different variations of contraceptive charms just to make sure. There weren't going to be little Potters running around any time soon, not as long as he could help it. "Now, enough talk. I'm sure there are better things to be doing with that mouth of yours."

"I'm pretty sure I said that to you last night, didn't I?" said Parvati. At Harry's nod, she shrugged. "Then I suppose it's only fair I repay the favour."

Harry felt like crying with happiness. He didn't, because he was a man, and men didn't cry over such things, so he settled for cheering instead. Parvati didn't even blink. If anything, she took it as an incentive to try and make him cheer some more.

She succeeded.

Harry avoided breakfast altogether. His willpower was severely tested as he passed the Great Hall, when the smell of crisp bacon reached him, but he managed to continue walking. Parvati had kept him in bed for longer than either of them had realised, but he wasn't complaining. It meant he was late to the try-outs, which was why he wasn't stuffing his face full of food.

The sunshine that had shone into the seventh years' dormitory earlier in the morning had been chased away by angry grey clouds. There wasn't a hint of the sun anymore, but rain had yet to fall. The chill in the air forced Harry to tighten his robes across his chest as he stepped onto the Hogwarts grounds. A scowl made its way onto his face as walked towards the Quidditch pitch, where he started to hear the voices of his classmates. When he arrived he found the crowd was bigger than he'd expected. It seemed most of Gryffindor had shown up.

Ron was surrounded by a group of four people, with a clipboard in his hand and a scowl to match Harry's. Off to the side, other groups had gathered, nervously holding their brooms as they waited. Ron was ignoring them for now. He happened to raise his eyes over the clipboard and spot Harry.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, gesturing furiously. "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago!"

"Oh, was I?" said Harry, feigning confusion. "Sorry 'bout that. I slept late. You know how it is."

Ron's teeth clenched together. "Don't give me that crap," he ground out. "I sleep in the bed right next to you, Harry. You didn't put a Silencing Charm around your bed last night, and you weren't exactly quiet."

Harry hadn't really given it much thought. Now that he was thinking about it, he found that he didn't really care.

"Huh," he said.

"He's right," said Dean Thomas. The black boy was standing next to Ginny, holding her hand. He wasn't looking anywhere near as angry as Ron was, but he didn't look happy. "We had to silence our beds from outside noise, in the end."

Ron nodded furiously in agreement. "I heard you when I got up this morning, too," he said, his ginger eyebrows drawing close. "I heard you … cheering. I'm pretty sure I heard clapping, too."

Ginny whistled through her front teeth. "Impressive," she said, and she giggled at the look of disgust on Ron's face. "Well, it was impressive if it was Parvati."

"It was." Harry puffed himself up. "She loves it when I use my tongue to—"

"Harry!" interrupted Dean, alarm written all over his face. Harry noticed his free hand, the one not holding Ginny's, was curled into a fist by his side. "Please, I don't want to hear about Parvati like that. She's one of my best friends."

Ginny gave Dean a hard stare. He must have passed the test, because Ginny leaned up on her toes to give him a long kiss. Dean's fingers finally relaxed, but Harry filed the information away for later.

Ron's lip curled. He looked like he'd just stepped in dog shit.

"Do you mind?" he demanded. "This is a Quidditch try-out, not a … a … an orgy!"

Harry snorted. "Introduce some alcohol, a mud pit, and some music, and I'm sure we could get one started."

"Thanks for that, Harry," snarled Ron. He was more concerned with his sister, though, who had completely ignored him. "Seriously, I thought I told you two not to do that in front of me!"

Harry wondered if Ron had ever thought of what they got up to when he, and other prying eyes, weren't around. He was probably refusing to believe the truth. Harry was about to happily tell him what they were likely doing in private, when Dean and Ginny finally broke apart. The youngest Weasley rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Why don't you just tell us what you want us to do?" she asked, exasperated. "We've been hanging around for ages."

Harry nodded in approval. "And let me go first, yeah? I'm freezing my nuts off out here."

"Fine!" Ron whirled around, pointing towards the aspiring players. "Oi, wannabe Seekers, come here!"

Twelve people instantly surrounded Ron, Ginny, and Harry. Dean stepped back, muttering about not wanting to fly against Harry. Ron had a doubtful look on his face as he looked around the group, which consisted of three second years, one of which was a muggleborn holding the broomstick the wrong way round.

"Right," he said, clearly not convinced by them. "Now that you're all warmed up." He glanced at Harry. "Well, nearly all of you. Anyway, here's the Snitch. See it? Good. Whoever catches this the most is Gryffindor's newest Seeker." Ron released the Snitch, and they all watched it zoom out of sight.

Ron paired them off and told the first couple to go and find the Snitch. They were both second years, clearly not expected to make the team. Harry watched them go, before he turned to Ron and pulled him away from the group.

"What is it?" asked Ron, confused. "Are you worried or something?"

"Me? Hah! As if," said Harry, waving away Ron's silly suggestion. "No, I just want to know why you're making me try out. Have you seen this bunch of idiots?" He jabbed a thumb towards the cluster of people. "You know I'm going to win. And you've already said Ginny's going for Chaser, so why is she even doing this?"

Ron sighed. "I can't just give you the position, can I? People would think I'm favouring you," he explained. "And I wanted Ginny here, so you would at least have a bit of competition."

"You'd better hope one of the little brats doesn't get a lucky catch in," said Harry, not believing for a second he would be beaten. "Or you'll be stuck with them for the rest of the year."

Twelve hopefuls soon turned into six with a chance. Harry and Ginny had qualified into the next round with relative ease. The third year boy she'd flown against had been so distracted by her breasts he'd nearly flown straight into the stands. Harry had an even easier time of it, when a first year girl had asked him for an autograph as they prepared to chase the Snitch. As soon as he'd granted her wish, she'd clutched the parchment to her chest and ran off to her friends, completely abandoning the try-out.

When it was finally down to just three, Harry, Ginny, and a fifth year boy remained. Harry swung his leg over his broom, paying no attention whatsoever to his competition. As soon as Ron blew his whistle, Harry shot off down the field, having already spotted the Snitch. Just as held out his to catch it, the golden ball abruptly changed direction and flew away.

"Oh, you little bastard!"

Harry tore after it. His flying was extremely erratic; a group of first and second year girls sitting in the stands were forced to duck as he flew over them. Ginny was by his side in seconds, shoving him out of the way.

"Oi!"

Harry couldn't deny the thrill of the chase. He was back besides Ginny in seconds. There was no way in hell she was beating him. As they flew towards the centre of the pitch, she stretched out her hand, but Harry's arm was longer and he snatched it out from under her nose.

"Ha!" crowed Harry, lifting his arm in triumph.

Harry and Ginny were the first to arrive back to Ron. Ginny didn't look too upset that she'd missed out on making the Seeker position, but Harry tried to console her anyway.

"Sorry about that, Ginny," he said. "If you want, I'll buy you dinner in Hogsmeade. Perhaps we can book a room for the night while we're there?"

Ginny started chuckling, having grown somewhat used to him over the summer, but Ron just stared at him. Finally, he held out his hand and Harry gave him the Snitch.

"You're Seeker, Harry," he said, his voice strained.

"Does this mean I can go?" Harry asked hopefully. "I need a shower."

"Yes," said Ron stiffly. "There are showers in the changing rooms."

There hadn't been enough time to shower before the try-outs (he'd already been late), so he headed straight there. As he walked away, he looked back over his shoulder.

"Oi, Ginny. Fancy joining me?"

Ron's shoulders stiffened, but Ginny burst out laughing and raised her middle finger in response.

Harry managed to avoid Hermione all morning by hiding in an abandoned classroom. He really wasn't in the mood for a lecture from her. He could only imagine the amount of steam she'd managed to build up overnight.

The classroom he'd found was on the second floor. There were large windows along one wall, bathing the room in light. A bookshelf stood at the back of the room, from floor to ceiling, full of dusty tomes that looked like they'd not been read in decades. At the front of the room was an oak desk, with a rickety chair behind it.

Harry plucked a few of the more interesting titles from the bookshelf and sat down with them, putting his feet up on the desk. The first book he opened was on potions, which he almost immediately discarded after the first page. Instead of containing any information he thought would be useful to know, it was a theory on the origin of cauldrons.

The second book he picked up was thick, containing advanced charms and spells. It was written by an ex-Auror, who told stories of his days catching dark wizards, along with which spells he'd used against them, and which ones they'd used against him.

A familiar feeling settled in Harry's gut as he read, one which he couldn't explain. It was almost like he'd read the book before. Figuring that he'd read it before he'd defeated Voldemort and subsequently lost all his memories, he continued to read. The familiarity only intensified.

He picked up his third and last book, which was called 'The Art of War'. It was obviously written many years ago, as it explained how transfiguration and the Dark Arts had been used to devastating effect by Gellert Grindelwald. The second chapter went deeper into the detail, but Harry didn't feel out of his depth like he knew he should have been feeling. If anything his brain went into overdrive, throwing up thoughts on improving methods to neutralise Grindelwald's deadliest spells.

The hairs on Harry's arms were standing on end by the time he'd finished the fourth chapter. His magic was singing in his very bones, aching to be free from its chains. Hundreds of spells flew through his mind, too fast for him to properly comprehend. The information was in his head, but he couldn't access it. He tried to remember incantations, but only became irritated when they weren't forthcoming.

The noise of the bell signalling the beginning of class brought him out of his thoughts. He realised he'd missed lunch, and he should have been making his way to Potions, but he didn't move from his spot behind the desk.

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, highlighting motes of dust floating in the musty air. His hand automatically found his wand as he eyed them, curious, wondering …

He brought up his wand, aiming it at a particular speck of dust. Was it even possible, he thought? Could something he could barely see be transfigured? Feeling a little unsure, his magic reacted instinctively.

A bright flash blinded Harry, forcing him to throw his hands over his eyes. He heard, rather than saw, the surprised cry of a blackbird. Harry chanced a look and jerked his head away from the bird, which had headed straight for him.

"Whoa!"

The blackbird settled on the desk, glaring at him. Harry took his chance, managing to transfigure the bird into a comfy, fluffed up cushion, which he placed on the chair beneath him.

Just as his heart stopped racing the cushion exploded in a cloud of black feathers, sending him crashing into the desk. A flock of birds had suddenly appeared, attacking him as he tried valiantly to fend them off. He managed to get off the desk, shouting at top of his lungs as he waved his wand around like a madman. The birds started disappearing one by one until, finally, none remained.

Harry collapsed onto the chair, relief flooding through him. Someone coughed lightly from the doorway, and Harry leapt to his feet, heart pounding once more.

A petite girl was standing in the doorway, looking at him with wide blue eyes. Harry stared back at her. She had auburn hair, which was currently tied back in a ponytail. When she finally spoke, it was with a quiet voice.

"Are you … are you okay?" Her hand was still on the doorknob, as though she wasn't sure whether to stay or turn and run.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," said Harry. He dropped back into the chair, taking no notice of his badly ruffled robes or the tiny but deep cuts in the back of his hands. He looked at the girl, who still hadn't moved. Hermione had tried to get him to remember who everyone was, at least the students in the same year. She had shown him pictures and, if he remembered correctly, her name was Megan Jones. He was fairly sure it was, because he clearly remembered thinking how pretty she was. "It was just a spell gone wrong," he added. "You know how is."

Megan eyed him curiously. "No, not really."

"What, you've never had a spell gone wrong?" Harry frowned at her. "Are you some sort of prodigy with a wand or something?"

"Oh no, I don't mean that!" Megan was quick to start shaking her head from side to side. "I just meant I've never tried a difficult spell without a professor's supervision."

"Huh," said Harry. Megan had still not moved from the door. "Do you want to come in?"

Megan blinked, as if surprised, but slowly nodded. She shut the door and moved to the front of the desk, where she took a seat.

"I don't mean to pry or anything, but shouldn't you be in Potions right now?"

Harry shrugged. "I'll get there when I get there."

Megan's eyes widened. "You do know who Professor Snape is, don't you?"

"Sure I do," said Harry. "What are you doing roaming the halls during class? Meeting a boyfriend?"

Megan blushed a furious scarlet, and she dipped her head, refusing to meet his eyes as she mumbled under her breath.

"What was that?" asked Harry, frowning.

"I said I haven't got a boyfriend," said Megan, sighing. "No one has ever asked me out."

"Seriously?" Harry blurted out.

Megan jumped out of her chair. "I've got to go!" she exclaimed, a look of horror in her eyes. She was throwing open the door before Harry had time to say anything, and then she was gone.

Harry was left wondering what the hell had just happened. The entire encounter left him feeling baffled. He tried to start reading the ex-Auror's book once more, but Megan remained in the back of his mind. She'd managed to intrigue him.

He never did get to Potions.