Chapter Eight: Quidditch Practice
Harry hadn't slept again. A few weeks ago he would have found it hard to believe that he could possibly be so exhausted and yet spend the whole night rolling and tossing and agonising and getting tangled up in his sheets over any girl, let alone Ginny Weasley.
But now humiliation coursed through him and his blood burned like angry pepper imps were running around his insides. Even the thought of the common room, and all those people, and worst of all Ginny's back as she left him there were enough to make his face heat up. What had people thought? And never mind people, what must Ginny think of him, trying to get into her dormitory in the middle of the night? God, how would he ever look her in the face again?
He squeezed his eyes tight shut – as he seemed to be doing a lot recently – in some attempt to block out the humiliation. Unfortunately he happened to be on his way down to an early breakfast at the time and walking down a corridor is neither the time nor the place to be shutting one's eyes.
He bumped into someone, who gasped. "Oh, sorry Harry," said Cho. "I wasn't looking where I was going."
Harry looked up in surprise. "Oh, that's fine, me neither."
She looked funnily at him. "What are you doing up so early?" He explained about the Quidditch. "Of course, you've got Slytherin next week, I should have known."
To fill the awkward pause that followed, during which Cho showed no signs of moving, Harry asked, "What about you?"
"Me? Oh… I've just been to the Owlery."
The Owlery? "But isn't it quicker…"
"I took a detour," she said shortly. "Anyway, I must go." Cho gave him a tight smile turned to go.
"'K," said Harry, carrying on towards the Great Hall. He was sure he could feel her eyes on his back. It was funny, even Cho didn't faze him now. He didn't even feel awkward and embarrassed. In fact, it seemed that all of his emotions not relating to Ginny had been somehow numbed. It was like she was taking over his brain, and anything that didn't involve her was just grey and humdrum.
He found the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team already at the table. He had pretended to be asleep when Ron got to bed last night, and when he woke up this morning Ron was already gone. He approached the table nervously, worried about his friend's reaction.
"Morning," Ron grunted.
"Morning," Harry replied, glad that at least he merited a greeting. He forced himself to avoid looking at Ginny as he sat down, though he was acutely aware of her presence without even having to glance her way. His whole body buzzed just to know she was there, he couldn't help it.
"Hey Harry," piped up Colin Juggins, the new fourth year Chaser, almost before Harry had sat down. "I heard you tried to sneak into the g- ow!" He was abruptly silenced as Ron hit him round the head with the breadbasket.
"So today we're going to play a sort of mock match," said Ron loudly over Colin's indignant protestations. "Keeper and one Beater trying to stop the Chasers scoring, with the other Beater defending them. We'll have the Quaffle, one Bludger and of course the Snitch which Harry will be concentrating on catching."
Was Harry imagining it or had Ron accentuated the word 'concentrating' a fraction as he shot him a sideways glance? He obviously thought Harry couldn't do it.
"Sounds good," said Ginny's voice brightly. Harry concentrated very hard on his toast and marmalade. Behind the cheeriness in her voice he could detect something else, lacings of strain and confusion. He risked a glance round the table. No one else seemed to have noticed it. Harry frowned.
The weather outside was bright and breezy, perfect for Quidditch. As the team mounted their brooms, Harry was even more determined not to look at Ginny. After his abysmal performance in Sunday's practice, he knew she was too much of a distraction to his game. On Sunday he had been too busy worrying about where she was, his brain acutely conscious of her presence when she was near and her absence when she was far, to give more than passing thought to the Snitch. Ron had eventually stopped and begun shouting at him when the Snitch flew round Harry's head not once, but twice. Harry had been too busy panicking about Ginny's near miss with a Bludger to notice it.
Well today, Harry vowed as they took off, there would be none of that. If Ginny saw a Bludger, she could take care of herself. His throat tightened at the thought. Maybe he could just keep a covert eye on her, just to check…
NO. He threw off the urge to gaze longingly over at the windswept red and gold form that he instinctively knew was currently hovering below and a little left of him. No, he would concentrate on the Snitch.
As the fake game commenced, Harry hovered above the play, scanning the pitch for a glimpse of shining gold. Snitch, Snitch, Snitch, he reminded himself firmly as a flash of bright red hair caught his attention and for a moment he could not quite stop himself watching, acutely feeling her disappointment as her shot at goal rebounded off the left hoop.
Right, Snitch. He diligently scanned the pitch for it, forcing himself with considerable effort not to let his gaze linger for too long on the slight redheaded figure flying beneath him. Unfortunately, he could remove her from his sight, but not from his mind. While he felt the usual exhilaration of flying begin to kick in, there was also something else, the uncomfortable twisting, gnawing feeling in his gut that he got when he couldn't be near Ginny.
After about half an hour of play he eventually saw the Snitch, hovering near the right goal hoop. Pushing the feeling away, adrenaline filling his veins, he dived towards it, weaving through the other players, reaching, fingers outstretched… until with quiet satisfaction Harry closed his fingers over the tiny fluttering ball.
"Well done Harry," shouted Ron. "Right, touch down everybody, I think we've done enough for today."
Harry did not wonder for long at Ron's decision to cut the session short. Lurking at the edge of the Quidditch stands was a hulking figure in Slytherin uniform, trying unsuccessfully to conceal herself behind a pole. It was Millicent Bulstrode, clearly sent to spy on the Gryffindor practice. As the team touched down, she quickly disappeared.
Ron could clearly be heard muttering under his breath about 'those bloody Slytherins' all the way back to the changing room, where he quickly showered, speaking very little to his team mates. As soon as he'd finished his shower he disappeared from the room.
"What's his problem?" asked Harry.
"Probably gone to speak to the girls," said Andrew Kirke. "Didn't you see the way Ginny was playing?"
"No," said Harry steadily, sure his face must be betraying the turmoil of emotions within. "How was she playing?"
"Not exactly up to her usual standard," filled in Jack Sloper. "Didn't score one goal, dropped the Quaffle twice..."
As soon as Harry finished his shower he went to look for Ron. He found him outside the girls' changing rooms, having what looked like a blazing row with Ginny through the door. Harry hung back, unwilling to interrupt.
"…but then you dropped it AGAIN," Ron was fuming, "and your passing was all over the place…"
"I KNOW, RON!" came Ginny's furious voice from within. Harry could hear tears behind the anger. Ron obviously couldn't, because he continued to berate her for her lacklustre performance. It occurred to Harry that perhaps the potion was making him extra sensitive to Ginny's feelings. "I told you, I don't know what was wrong with me!" she shouted, bursting out of the changing room. "I was just distracted!"
Harry's breath caught in his throat and he almost choked. Ginny was… that is… she was wearing… Harry realised simultaneously that his mouth was hanging open and he had forgotten to breathe. Blood rushed to his head and other important places and he quickly stumbled back to the boys' changing room. Several cold showers later, he felt ready to emerge.
The sight of Ginny emerging, wet and towel-clad and blazing with anger was enough to make any wizard blush. But to Harry the sight of Ginny emerging, wet and towel-clad and blazing with anger, was enough to cause his body to heat up to almost superhuman temperatures and his mind to perform gymnastics of the imagination he'd never dreamed were possible. It wasn't as though it had even been a particularly small towel, he reflected. But it had been small enough. And her hair had been slick and wet and dripping little rivulets of water over her shoulders and into the white fluffiness of the towel, and her eyes had been all flaming…
Harry decided another cold shower would be a good idea.
Snape in a tutu, he reminded himself as he entered the Great Hall at lunch and immediately glimpsed Ginny's bright head at the Gryffindor table. Snape in a tutu, Snape in a tutu, Snape in a – "Argh!"
Harry had just bumped into Snape. "Watch where you're going, Potter," the professor snapped.
"Sorry, Professor," Harry mumbled, and made as if to go. But then he felt Snape's bony grip descend on his shoulder.
"One moment, Potter." Snape drew something from his robes and brandished it under Harry's nose, fixing him with a thin smile. "A gnarl quill, as I'm sure even you are aware. From my private stores, along with several other ingredients" Harry strove to keep his expression blank. "I keep a very strict inventory, Potter," Snape continued, looking like he was trying to bore a hole in Harry's head with his eyes. Harry wouldn't put it past him. He tried to look innocent.
"I found this in my classroom yesterday, immediately after a certain… eventful lesson. Have you any idea what it could have been doing there?"
When Harry made no reply, Snape narrowed his eyes and put the quill away. "Do not for one instant believe that this pretence of ignorance has fooled me, Potter," he said coolly. "You and your friends are up to something, and make no mistake, I will find out what it is." With a final despising glance Snape turned and strode out of the hall.
"What was all that about?" asked Ron as Harry sat down, relieved that Ron and Hermione had sat the other end of the table from Ginny and her friends. Maybe they'd done it on purpose. Making a supreme effort not to peer down the table for the glimpse of Ginny's sweet smiling face that would instantly lift his spirits, Harry told the pair about Snape and the gnarl quill.
"He'sh got it in frus," said Ron through a mouthful of sandwich.
Hermione just frowned. "It's a good thing the Indicating Ink will be ready on Thursday," she said. "But we'd better be extra careful now that Snape's watching us."
Ron made a noise that probably indicated agreement, though it could have been approval of his potted-meat sandwich.
Harry picked at his lunch half-heartedly. He felt like he should be hungry, since he'd played Quidditch that morning and barely eaten all day. But the food tasted dry and unappetising in his mouth, and he couldn't force down more than a few bites. He wanted to look over at Ginny. He REALLY wanted to look over at Ginny. He knew instinctively exactly where she was sitting in relation to him, and every so often he sensed her eyes on him and swallowed hard, flushing. But he couldn't look over. He'd promised himself. He'd only do something to embarrass her again. His heart began to palpitate madly; she was looking his way again. He stared very hard at his half-eaten sandwich and waited for her to stop, so he could move again.
"Harry? Harry!"
He realised Hermione was waving her hand in front of his face. How long had she been doing that? He glanced up. "Hmm?"
"I was asking you how you are. Aren't you hungry?"
He looked at his uneaten lunch. "Oh… no, not really."
"And what about… you know?" she probed. "How are your feelings about…" she glanced at Ron, who was attempting not to look too interested "…you know who?"
Harry forced a smile. "I think it's getting better," he said. "You just have to… fight it. I'm feeling more normal now," he repeated. He wondered just who he was trying to convince.
Hermione looked relieved. "Just keep trying, won't you?" she said earnestly. "It's very important that you don't let this affect your schoolwork."
Ron snorted.
That evening, Ron and Hermione went to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to work on the Indicating Ink. Harry had expressed an interest in coming, despite the amount of homework he had that night, but Hermione had refused.
"Ron and I will go, you should stay here and focus on your work," she'd said firmly. "You haven't even started that Charms essay for tomorrow!"
"Or you could always ditch the essay and go and do some Quidditch practice- ow!" Hermione nudged Ron hard in the ribs.
Harry had grudgingly agreed to stay. He wasn't going to tell Hermione that his enthusiasm to go was mainly to do with the fact that Ginny was currently the centre of a merry crowd in the corner, charming a caricature of Mena Selari which Dean had drawn to stick its tongue out and blow a raspberry. And so Ron and Hermione went, leaving Harry attempting to focus.
Right, he thought, and carefully began to write the title of the essay. 'Using detailed examples from your practical work, explain to what extent the 'Defendeus' charm differs from the 'Protegus' charm in theory, application and…'
Ginny was now sitting absolutely still while Dean's pencil flew over the parchment, sketching a likeness of her. She hadn't looked Harry's way all evening; he could feel it acutely when she did. She laughed at something Dean said, and then attempted to put on a straight face for picture, failing miserably as first one corner of her mouth twitched, then another, until her ringing laughter filled Harry's ears.
Dragging his attention back to the parchment, Harry had to blink several times before he could concentrate. Detailed examples… Ginny's voice reached his ears, followed by some more laughter. Protegus…
Harry struggled through most of the required length, though the parchment was so full of crossings out it was probably less, he reflected.
Just then Ginny got up and Harry followed her in the corner of his eye as she went up the stair to the girls' dormitories.
A voice interrupted Harry's tortured reminiscences of the last time he'd seen those stairs. "Harry?" He looked up. Dean was passing by his table, grinning. "Harry, did you know your book's upside-down?"
After that Harry decided to finish the essay in the dormitory, knowing that with Ginny in the room it would never get done.
Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione were just finishing off the adjustments to the potion that Hermione had deemed necessary. Ron was busy chopping yak hair when Hermione turned to him.
"It's funny, isn't it," she said in an innocent voice, "how you encouraged Harry to go and fly his Firebolt earlier, knowing full well Ginny was going out to practise."
Ron's ears went red. "I did not know full well…" he spluttered.
"You told her to, Ron!"
He mumbled something unintelligible and threw the yak hair into the potion. Hermione continued in the same speculative tone. "And it's funny, how you seem all funny about Harry being in love with Ginny but you don't actually seem that keen to do anything about it…"
"Well, you don't either," retorted Ron defensively. "And you always want to go to McGonagall. You wanted to go to McGonagall when that fourth year kid said he was going to put a Crumblylegs Curse on us!"
Hermione looked nettled. "If Harry looked like being in any danger to himself or Ginny…"
"But he doesn't, does he? So you want to wait a few days and see if you can come up with an antidote yourself… it's almost like you're using Harry to test your Potions skills." He gave her a shrewd look.
"I would never do that!" she exclaimed angrily. "I just thought maybe if we gave Harry a chance-" but then she tailed off and suddenly became very fascinated in the potion she was stirring.
"A-HA!" Ron brandished a large dried slug at her triumphantly. "You WANT them to get together, don't you?"
Hermione turned rather pink, and told herself it was the steam from the potion. "Alright," she said matter-of-factly. "Maybe I do. But if I thought for a moment that Harry was in any danger, you know I'd tell Professor McGonagall straight away!"
Ron's expression was hard to read. This was so unusual in Ron that Hermione stopped stirring the potion to give him a sharp look. "You think the same, don't you?" she said bluntly.
Ron paused. "Alright. What if I did?" He looked defensive again.
"Then there would be nothing wrong with that," she said slowly. "I mean, it's understandable that you would want Ginny to be with someone who's right for her…"
"And he IS!" burst out Ron. "I mean, it's not like I want them to go off and get married or anything, but if Ginny's going to go out with anybody, I'd want it to be someone like Harry, not some poncy-arsed git like Michael Corner!
"And the worst thing was that Harry never bloody noticed she was there, but now he's got this spell on him, now he's paid her some attention, surely now he'll notice her. Right?"
"Ron," said Hermione gently, laying a hand on his arm. He froze, and they both moved away rather quickly. "Ron, you know when the potion's effect is reversed Harry won't feel this way about Ginny any more."
"Yeah, but he'll have noticed her, won't he? Look, I'm not saying it's a good thing some psycho tried to put a love-spell on me and got Harry, but it's an opportunity, isn't it?"
Hermione nodded pensively. "An opportunity…"