The Gryffindor common room is buzzing with excitement over tomorrow's impromptu Quidditch match, so much so that all the students with exams the next day—Astronomy and Arithmancy—have fled the area in hopes of quiet, including Hermione.
"You should really be studying for Charms," Hermione tells Ron and Harry before disappearing to the library. There's no real heat in her voice though, and Harry imagines she's just happy to see him focusing on something other than his urge to track down and curse the Head Auror.
Truthfully, Harry would gladly have another go at Robards. He might not be able to take him in a duel with his 'shoddy fucking wandwork', but he'd happily try again all the same. His hands tighten into fists on the arms of his favorite chair. The cheery fire and comfort of one of his favorite places is doing little to lift his mood.
Ron nudged his foot. "Chess?" he asks, clearly hopeful of distracting Hary out of his 'sulk' as he would doubtlessly call it.
Before Harry can answer, Demelza squats down on the edge of the hearth in front of them. "Okay, Potter. What's the plan?"
"What?" Harry says, his agitation only growing.
Demelza stares at him nonplussed. "Christ, Harry. I knew you needed me as a Chaser, but this is ridiculous."
Right, Harry thinks, Quidditch. He forces himself to take a breath. The last thing he needs is to piss off his best Chaser. "Of course I want you to play," he says. "Won't it just be the normal team? Only with me and Ron?"
The current Keeper fortunately already begged off, being a fifth-year with exams tomorrow, so Harry doesn't even have to feel bad about wanting to have Ron on his team instead. As for the current Gryffindor Seeker, the third-year doesn't seem put out, instead claiming to be excited to see Harry play.
But Demelza is regarding Harry like he's crazy. Rubbing a hand over her face, she takes a breath as if willing herself to remain calm. "Let me ask you something. Do you want to win this?"
"Of course I do," Harry says, not particularly appreciating the insinuation that he doesn't.
"Okay then," she says. "We need Harper."
Harry shares a dubious look with Ron. "Kiernan Harper?" He was a Seeker as far as Harry remembered. A bad one. And a Slytherin one at that.
Demelza shakes her head. "Of course not. His sister. She's a Ravenclaw. And a killer Chaser. I mean, nowhere near as good as Ginny, but who is? We need her."
Harry frowns. "Are we supposed to be recruiting from other houses?" he asks Ron.
He shrugs. "Ginny did say assemble your team. She didn't say it had to be all Gryffindors." He looks at Demelza, something assessing in his gaze. "She's that good?"
"She is."
"Well then," Ron says, hands slapping his knees. "What would be the harm in asking?"
"But Chasers have to work together," Harry points out. "Wouldn't it be a disadvantage to bring in someone new?"
Demelza shrugs. "Usually it would be, but we've been having those bloody clinics all year, haven't we? All of the Chasers have spent time together training, know all the same basic plays, and she's good enough that a little confusion on the field will still leave us better off."
Harry looks at Ron, who nods his agreement. "Okay then," Harry decides.
Demelza grins, popping up to her feet. "Great. Let's go."
They follow Demelza through the castle, down the main corridor and then back up to the Ravenclaw tower. "Oi," she says to a student they pass on the stairs. "Is Harper in there?"
"Excuse me?" the witch says, looking confused.
Demelza doesn't seem put off. "Why don't you run up and check? It's important."
"I'm not a bloody House Elf—" the Ravenclaw starts to say, only to stop when she realizes Demelza isn't on her own. The girl's eyes widen slightly when she sees Harry.
Ron nudges him in the ribs and Harry belatedly smiles at her. "We'd, uh, really appreciate it." All for a good cause, he tells himself.
The kid nods, turning and disappearing back into the common room after puzzling out a rather extended answer for the door.
It doesn't take long for Harper to appear. She's younger than Harry expects, but taller than Demelza already. "Well," she says, looking between the three of them, "a gaggle of Gryffindors. What could this possibly be about?"
"Come off it, Harper," Demezla says with impatience. "You know why we're here."
"I do?" There's something distinctly disturbing about a Ravenclaw playing dumb.
"Would you be interested in playing for us tomorrow?" Harry asks, not keen on dragging this out.
"Sorry," Harper says, shaking her head. "I can't."
She doesn't seem particularly sorry.
"You don't have any exams!" Demelza says.
Harper rolls her eyes. "I had noticed that, strangely enough. I still can't play for you."
"Why not?" Harry asks, a sinking sensation in his stomach telling him he already knows the answer.
"Because I'm already playing for Ginny," she says with a bright smile.
"Son of a bitch," Demelza says. Her face pales as something else seems to occur to her. "Oh, no."
"What?" Harry asks.
Demelza ignores him, instead addressing Harper. "Did she get the Hufflepuff Beaters?"
Harper just smiles, and he wonders why she bothered to come down here if she never intended to play for them, if she really just wanted to gloat.
"Did we want the Hufflepuff Beaters?" Ron asks.
"What?" Demelza says. "No. Jimmy and Ritchie are great. But the Hufflepuff Beaters are a huge improvement over bloody Karl. Ginny clearly is not messing about." She turns to glare at Harry as if this is all his fault. "She probably asked them all before she goaded you into the match."
Harry is finally getting a sense of just how seriously everyone is taking this, Ginny included. Not to mention the creeping feeling that this is nowhere near as impromptu as it appears.
He thinks Ginny could stand to realize she's not quite as in control as she'd like to think.
"Harper," he says, banking on the fact that there was another reason she came down here to meet with them.
She looks up at him with something like anticipation sparkling in her eyes. "Yeah?"
"Is there anything at all we can do to convince you to change your mind?"
Demelza's head lifts, expression alert.
Rather than being surprised by the offer, Harper looks like she's just been waiting for it. "Anything?"
"Within reason," Harry says, not at all sure he likes how eager she looks.
She comes down the steps until she's standing in front of him. "Before we talk terms, I need you to confirm or deny something for me."
"Okay," Harry says, giving Ron a wary look. Demelza just makes an impatient gesture, as if telling him to humor Harper anyway he can.
"I've heard rumors that you have an invisibility cloak. One that is said to be impressively effective. True or false?"
Harry hesitates even though it's far from a secret at this point. "True," he admits.
Harper's face lights up. "Okay. That's my price."
"What?" Ron exclaims. "You're barking."
Harry silently agrees. No Quidditch match is worth giving up his father's bloody cloak. One of the Deathly Hallows. Even if she clearly doesn't know that.
She gives them a look of exasperation. "I'm not going to keep it. I just want to look at it. Study it a bit. It would help me with a little theory I'm working on. Say, 12 hours?"
Harry is already shaking his head. There is no way he's letting the cloak out of his sight, let alone for that long.
"Six hours," she amends, clearly desperate.
"One hour and I'm there the whole time," Harry says.
Her eyes narrow. "Two hours and you're there the whole time."
"Done," Harry says. He holds out his hand.
Harper takes it, shaking it firmly and giving out a small squeak of excitement. "That's worth Ginny Weasley's wrath." She frowns, looking at Demelza. "Besides, she won't be here next year, right?"
"Nope," Demelza agrees, patting her on the shoulder. "We're in the free and clear. Better off than this lot." She jerks a thumb towards Ron and Harry.
Ron groans, looking at Harry. "She's going to kill us, you realize."
Harry shrugs, not particularly worried at the moment. "She started it."
Harper seems equally unconcerned with their fate. "So...the cloak? Can we do it now?"
Harry isn't that thick. "After the match."
"Fine," she grumbles. She heads back up the stairs, pausing once to look back at them. "Oh, one more thing. You lot have to tell Ginny."
Ron groans, but Harry just nods. "I'll take care of it."
"Better you than me," Ron says, not offering to fall on that particular sword. "Want to borrow Pig? No reason you have to do it in person."
Harry rolls his eyes. "She isn't that scary."
"Have you met my sister?"
"Yes, well," Demelza says as they start back down the stairs. "There's no reason to rush to tell her."
Harry slides her a look.
"What?" she says, not looking even remotely abashed. "We need every advantage we can get."
"She deserves time to fill Harper's spot." He may be willing to lure a player away from her, but he isn't going to play that dirty.
Demelza sighs. "Fine. If you want to be all noble."
Ron laughs. "Have you met Harry?"
Harry tries to trod on the back of Ron's robes in retaliation, Ron dancing out of the way with a laugh as he aims a kick at his shin.
Harry is pretty sure he hears Demelza mutter the bloody savior of the wizarding world my arse under her breath as she leaves them to it.
When they get back to the common room after a celebratory stop in to see Kreacher in the kitchens, Harry ducks up into their dorm and pulls out his parchment. He isn't scared of Ginny, but a happy hour enjoying sweets and debating Quidditch with Ron has gone a long way towards softening his annoyance and frustration over the DADA exam. There's a small part of his brain wondering if maybe he took this whole competition with Ginny a little far. He isn't even completely sure where it came from, the things he said to her in the DA room. Not that Ginny seemed offended at the time, and maybe, just maybe, the way she looked at him with that particular glint in her eye only egged him on.
Still, he hasn't really had a chance to talk with her about it, so he can't be sure what she thinks of it all.
Hey, he writes.
Hey yourself, she writes back, which isn't a lot to go on.
He supposes if she were really annoyed with him, she wouldn't have written back at all. But it can't hurt to ask just to be sure. Right?
Are you still okay with all of this? The match?
Her response is immediate. Bring your A game, Potter. I'm going to squash you.
Well then. He'll take that as a yes.
Anything to win? he clarifies.
Pretty much.
Then you won't mind that I stole Harper.
You did what?!
All's fair, right?
Oh, now it's on, Potter.
He bites back a laugh. It wasn't before?
Joke's on you if you were hoping for a snog tonight. Now I have a Chaser to recruit.
He doubts they really would have met up tonight anyway considering how exhausted they both are, but that doesn't stop a traitorous feeling of disappointment from blooming in his chest. Well, don't waste time trying to get Harper back.
You seem pretty certain. What did you do, bribe her?
Harry doesn't immediately reply, not exactly sure how much he wants to admit to.
Oh my god, she writes. You totally did. What did you give her?
Harry isn't fooled for a second. Why, so you can try to offer her something better?
Would I do that?
He knows she would. Trust me. You can't top this.
Oh really? Now I have to know.
He only hesitates a moment before writing, A date with The Chosen One.
It's not exactly a lie, as Harry will be there too as Harper looks his cloak over, but it's also deliberately misleading. There's a disconcertingly long pause, or maybe that's just how it feels to Harry as he begins to regret the impulsive jab. She has to know he wouldn't do that, right?
Wow. Playing dirty, are we?
Harry can't help but squirm. No, he admits. I wasn't serious.
Harry.
What?
Please don't ruin perfectly good shite talking with your adorable sincerity.
Harry frowns, feeling vaguely insulted. I am not adorable.
Yes, you are. ADORABLE. Like a wobbly-legged new fawn. A squat-faced baby kneazle. Hagrid when he has a new pet.
He winces. Okay, now it's on, Weasley.
Is it?
We'll see how adorable I am when my team is trouncing you.
Much better. Only now I kinda do want to snog you.
No fraternizing with the enemy.
Pity.
Harry smiles, once again very much looking forward to this match. I'll see you tomorrow?
You bet that adorable arse of yours you will, Potter.
I don't recall my arse being part of the wager.
Oh my god. Go to bed, Harry. You're going to need every moment of beauty rest for your date with Harper.
Just worry about staying on your broom, Weasley.
ADORABLE.
Harry lets out a snort of amusement and tosses the parchment aside. He thinks this Quidditch match is going to be even more fun than he originally thought.
By breakfast the next morning, none of the excitement over the match seem to have faded. The two teams and their supporters have settled on opposite sides of the room to eat.
Not that everyone manages to choose a side. Neville walks in, glancing between the two groups and shifting uncomfortably on his feet. Dean and Seamus happily heckle him over his hesitation.
"Where's your house pride?" Seamus shouts.
Face red, Neville finally picks a seat in the middle of the room with Hannah and Susan.
Hermione looks around at all the fuss, clearly barely resisting rolling her eyes before turning back to her Arithmancy notes.
Harry turns, looking behind him. He locates Ginny in the middle of a crowd of Slytherin and Hufflepuff students. Burke, he notices, is nowhere to be found.
Ginny catches him looking, holding his gaze as she clearly mouths the word 'adorable' at him, and damn it, he's not at all sure this feeling in his chest is annoyance.
He gestures his thumb down, letting her know that he isn't going to hesitate to crush her.
Ginny just smiles back, something fierce and warm in her gaze, like she's really going to enjoy destroying him.
Ron notices him staring, pulling Harry back around. "You can't let Ginny get into your head. She's a master at mind games, remember?"
Harry doesn't dare say that Ginny doesn't need mind games for him to find her amazing and irresistibly snoggable.
Sadly, he doesn't get another chance to see her that morning, off with his team to talk strategy, Ginny no doubt off with hers somewhere. Everyone sits separately again at lunch, Ron muttering something about not fraternizing with the enemy.
At half past one, they finally head down to the pitch to change and start warming up. Someone even transfigured the uniforms, Harry's team in red and blue, Ginny's in green and yellow, and it all feels rather official. Ernie has offered to serve as a referee, while Luna is going to do the commentary. As the warm ups continue, a rather alarming amount of students gather to watch.
The only test sitting that afternoon is Arithmancy, one of the least popular subjects, meaning almost everyone else is here. Harry supposes there haven't been any diversions the last few weeks. For once. Who knew Hogwarts could actually be boring?
The planned start time approaches, so Harry and Ginny both touch down, walking towards each other to meet at the center of the pitch as the defacto captains.
Harry watches her approach, deciding that Ginny in her game leathers may just be his favorite thing. Or maybe it's just the way she's looking at him, so bloody certain of herself.
Just as they finally reach each other, McGonagall appears with Madam Hooch. Harry can hear Demelza curse above him.
"And what exactly is going on here, Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley?" she asks.
Ginny's eyes widen with faux sincerity. "Studying for Charms, ma'am?"
McGonagall presses her lips together in disapproval, though Harry suspects she's actually more likely trying not to look amused. She looks above Ginny to address Reiko. "Miss Sibazaki. Don't you have an exam this evening?"
Unlike the Gryffindor Keeper, Reiko apparently has no problem playing on exam day. The match probably won't go late enough to interfere with the evening Astronomy practical exam, but it's still a risk.
"Some things are far more important, Professor," Reiko says.
McGonagall's eyebrow lifts. "I see." She glances around at the large collection of students in the stands. "Well, I am sorry to say that I cannot allow this match to go forward—"
Everyone starts shouting and complaining.
"Without," McGonagall continues, raising her voice, "supervision and an official to ensure standard rules are adhered to. I will not have any pointless injuries on my grounds."
Harry catches on quick, smiling at Professor McGonagall. "Is there any chance at all, Professor, that you might have a little free time on your hands? We'd really appreciate it."
McGonagall's lips twitch as she looks at him almost fondly. "Fortunately," she says, "I do find myself unengaged this afternoon. As does Madam Hooch."
"How lovely," Ginny says.
McGonagall leans into Harry as she passes. "I expect you to win, Mr. Potter. Gryffindor has suffered quite enough losses this year as it is." Her cool eyes slide to Ginny as if to blame her for that.
Ginny's smile doesn't slip.
Hooch steps between them as McGonagall leaves the field. "Let's have a clean match, shall we?
Harry and Ginny nod.
"Now shake hands."
Ginny holds out her hand and Harry takes it, finding it surprisingly difficult to resist doing more than just shaking it.
"Finally I get a chance to kick your arse fair and square," Ginny says.
He grins at her. "Oh, I'm sure you'll try," he drawls, his fingers tightening around hers.
Her eyes flash in response, and Harry is momentarily distracted by how much he'd like to kiss her.
With a wink, she drops his hand, hopping up on her broom and smoothly taking position, Harry belatedly doing the same.
With a shout, Hooch lets the balls go, Ginny immediately swooping in for the Quaffle, shouldering Harper out of the way and forwarding it to Vaisey.
Harry almost gets distracted watching her, barely catching sight of Reiko starting chase after the Snitch. He doesn't have time to work out if it's a feint, cursing under his breath and taking off after her.
Reiko is fast despite her inferior broom, executing tight turns and spirals with a cool confidence she hadn't yet developed the last time he played against her. More than two years ago, he realizes with a jolt. He probably should have paid a bit more attention to her when he came to watch that one match earlier this term. Clearly Reiko has done nothing but practice, and Harry feels his first twinge of doubt.
Reiko stops, so completely and quickly that Harry has to swerve to avoid her, pulling up on the handle and smoothly leaning into a barrel roll until he is hovering just a few feet above her, his eyes sweeping for evidence of the Snitch.
"It's over there," Reiko says, pointing at the lower ring at the far end of the pitch.
Sure enough, Harry catches the slightest glint of gold before it's gone again.
Just a feint then, he realizes, taking a moment to appraise her.
She shrugs, giving him a confident smirk. "I thought Ginny deserved more time to play. She's having so much fun."
Harry knows he shouldn't but his eyes find Ginny again, watching her work through a wicked set of twists and climbs and barely controlled falls. She may be having fun, but she is also clearly taking this very seriously.
And she's fucking spectacular.
For a moment he almost wishes he were in the stands with nothing else to do but watch her. Instead, he forces himself to settle into a comfortable search pattern, never letting Reiko get too far away. He has confidence that his broom is faster, but she's sneaky. He knows better than to let his guard down.
Below them, the battle wages on. Harper, he has to admit, is good. Better than Dean. It's a good thing too, because Ginny and Vaisey are still rolling over them, helped no doubt by the Hufflepuff Beaters who are a serious force. The Slytherin Keeper is solid, but nothing inspired. Ron is a good match for him, so they're even there.
Nettlebed is the clear weak spot on Slytherin's offense. He just isn't that great, nearly getting unseated by Bludgers far more often than he should if he were properly focused. Or possibly he's just having a hard time keeping up with the complicated Chaser plays and keeping an eye out at the same time. Either way, Harry suspects it's the one thing keeping them from running the board more than they are. That and Demelza's improved throwing arm. He has a hard time predicting her throws and wonders if this is Ginny's influence. Either way, it's clearly a good thing they snagged Harper when they did.
There's a loud crack and whiz, a Bludger heading Harry's way despite the fact that he's not near the Snitch. He ducks and dives, easily evading it, but enjoying the chase as he works his way towards Jimmy, who sends it back towards Nettlebed with a hefty swing of his bat.
"I think that was a love letter for you, Harry," Jimmy laughs.
Sure enough, when he looks over, Ginny is grinning at him, giving one of the Hufflepuff Beaters a high five as she flies past.
"Just making sure you're paying attention, Potter!" Ginny shouts as she streaks by.
Harry forces his eyes off her retreating form and relocates Reiko, ascending to a higher viewpoint again. He and Reiko spend the next hour taking each other for merry chases and Harry has missed this so much. They get more and more daring, swerving in and out of the stands much to the cheering glee of the watching students.
They catch sight of the Snitch a few times, but never get close enough to even attempt a catch.
Harry is careful to keep one eye on the score. Slytherin has been solidly ahead from the very beginning, slowly increasing their lead. Not quite yet enough that they can win without the Snitch, but if the match goes on much longer, they could.
After about two hours, Harry decides that as fun as this has been, he really needs to get his hands on the Snitch. He stops biting when Reiko feints, instead settling into an intense search pattern.
Fifteen minutes later, Harry is the first to spot the Snitch. He doesn't bother glancing at Reiko, knowing generally where she is, just takes off directly for it. If he can end this now it's their best hope for winning.
There's a shout followed by the crack of a bat. Harry swerves enough to dodge the Bludger, but Ritchie is already there, sending it back without getting in Harry's way so he doesn't have to waste time evading. There's a roar in Harry's ears that may be the crowd or the wind or just his heart pounding in his ears as he hurtles after the Snitch.
He's almost there when the Snitch shudders and streaks off behind him, directly towards Reiko. Harry banks hard, giving chase, Reiko making up massive distance as they both meet in the middle before pulling up after the Snitch, nearly colliding with each other.
The crowd is roaring again, but it's all lost in the rush of wind and the last distance to the Snitch as it continues to climb straight up, higher and higher above the stands. Reiko is somehow keeping by his side despite her inferior broom, but beginning to fall just slightly behind.
He's going to get there first.
Plastering himself against his broom, he stretches out his hand. Next to him, Reiko does the same. It's really, really close, Harry and Reiko both straining for the Snitch. He lifts up off his seat, his broom nearly imperceptibly listing to one side. It's just the tiniest moment, the tiniest hesitation, but it's enough. He can't prove it, but he swears Reiko gave his broom a nudge, because rather than closing around the Snitch, his hand only finds empty air.
Reiko lunges not a moment later, nearly falling off her broom as she throws it all in for one last chance at the Snitch. Harry is forced to swerve not to hit her and by the time they are both righted again, Reiko lets out a shout.
They are both far, far above the stands by now, too far to be heard, but sure enough, there it is fluttering between Reiko's fingers—the Snitch. Her face is nearly bursting with joy and then she's flipping backwards and spiraling back down towards the pitch, Snitch still lifted in one hand.
Harry watches her go. His heart is still thundering from the chase, his skin feeling warm and wind burned, broom humming eagerly under his hand. He's disappointed, yes, feeling that he's let his team down, but it somehow doesn't take away from the thrill of the chase.
Turning his broom, he heads down after Reiko, where she's already disappeared under a pile of her teammates in the middle of the pitch.
"Tough luck," Jimmy says, pulling his broom up next to Harry. "I thought for sure that you had it!"
"So did I," Harry admits.
"That's Reiko for you. Sneaky little git." But there's no heat in his voice, rather an affectionate sort of annoyance.
That's when Harry notices that most of his team is in the scrum at the middle of the pitch as well, at first looking like maybe a fight is breaking out, but it's really just harmless shoving and shite talking and laughter.
It occurs to him that more things have changed at Hogwarts than he realized.
Ginny peels off from the group, looking up at Harry, hands on her hips as she regards him.
Diving down to the ground, he makes a quick stop, hopping down off his broom to approach her.
They meet in the middle, each reaching out to shake hands.
"Congratulations," he says, squeezing her fingers.
She grins at him. "Great match."
She's flushed and sweaty, her hair half falling out of her braid and he wants to kiss her so badly he worries for a moment that he won't be able to stop himself.
He must actually tug on her hand a bit, drawing her closer, because her eyes widen. She pulls her hand free, stretching it a bit before putting it behind her back.
"We can talk about the terms of our bet later?" she says, taking a careful step back.
He clears his throat, folding his arms over his chest. "Uh. Yeah. Of course. Looking forward to it."
"Not as much as I am. Trust me," she says, giving him a brilliant smile before turning and walking away.
Before Harry can remind himself to stop staring, Reiko comes barreling towards him, her face bright with joy. He can't even begrudge her the catch. She was really great.
"Merlin," she says, shoving at his arm. "Can we play against each other more often? That was the most fun I've had playing all year!"
He laughs, rubbing at his hair. "I'm not sure I could keep up with you."
"Are you kidding me?" she says, practically bouncing on her feet. "I thought I was going to die out there. You're amazing!"
He thinks that is probably a pretty generous exaggeration. He may have some natural talent, but Reiko clearly lives and breathes Quidditch in a way he never has. And he's definitely not as small and light as he used to be, having a good foot on Reiko. He hadn't even realized quite how much of a physical change that was until he was up there. It's been more than two years since he last played a real match after all.
"Well done, Miss Sibazaki," McGonagall says, appearing next to them. "But don't you have an exam to prepare for?"
Reiko casts a quick time charm, letting out a squeak when she realizes how late it is. The match went so long that dinner has already started.
"Bye, Harry!" she says, darting forward and giving him a hug.
Harry stands immobile under the onslaught, but before he can recover she's darted off, giving her teammates giant high-fives as she passes and flipping someone else off in response to something shouted at her.
Harry shakes his head, amused at her antics.
"Well, Mr. Potter," McGonagall says.
He winces. "Sorry, Professor," he says.
"No matter," she says, despite looking like she's sucked a lemon. "A Headmistress shouldn't show favoritism, after all." She leans in conspiratorially. "Though I think it is fair to admit that it was nice to see you enjoying yourself."
He smiles. "I definitely did," he says. He glances around at the pitch, the students still milling around the field. It looks like more than a little money is changing hands. "There really are a lot of things I'm going to miss about Hogwarts."
"Yes, well," she says. "Perhaps you'll return to us some day."
He turns to her, not sure what she means, but she just smiles at him, patting him a bit awkwardly on the shoulder before walking away.
Harry shakes his head, turning his attention instead towards finding Ron. Before he can, Harper corners him. At first he thinks she's going to be mad that they didn't win, but she doesn't seem to care in the slightest. "Now?" she asks.
"The cloak?" he asks in disbelief.
"Of course the cloak. You never said we had to win!"
"Any chance I can, I dunno, shower, change, and eat first?"
Harper clearly doesn't like that, but doesn't push. "Fine. Charms classroom at seven?"
He nods. "I'll be there."
"You'd better be," she says, walking off to join a group of friends.
Harry shakes his head in amusement. He's always saying he doesn't want people treating him like a celebrity, after all. He supposes this counts.
"Harry!" Ron shouts. "Get over here!"
Harry lets himself get swept up in the group.
After dinner, Harry spends two hours studying charms with Ron and Hermione while Harper examines his cloak. Hermione, he notices, rarely takes her eyes of the girl.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asks.
"All for a good cause," Ron says. "Despite the outcome."
Still, Hermione is the one to notice Harper pull out scissors and a candle. It takes far too much energy to convince her not to set the bloody thing on fire just to see if it would light.
The moment the two hours is up, Harry snags the cloak (fortunately still intact and working) and heads for the cloister.
He isn't there long before Ginny shows up.
"Have a nice date with Harper?" she asks, strolling into the room looking smug and still flushed with victory.
"Loads of fun," he says. He can't even manage to rouse the wherewithal to pretend it was.
She tucks her hands behind her back, letting out a hum of sympathy. "All that for nothing."
"Ugh," he says. "Don't remind me."
Her grin only widens. "So how does it feel to lose to me?"
"That didn't count," he says, mostly to wind her up. She could have the decency to look a little less pleased with herself after all. "It wasn't a real match."
Sure enough, her smile slips. "Don't be a bad loser, Harry."
He somehow manages to keep his expression stern, crossing his arms over his chest. "I clearly need to fit regular practice into my schedule. I'm slipping. It's the only explanation."
Her eyes narrow, and he finally relents, grinning at her.
"You are the worst," she says.
He laughs, pulling her into him. "And you are completely brilliant."
"Changing your tune now," she teases, snuggling into him.
"I've always thought you were brilliant."
"Uh huh," she says.
"Honestly, Ginny, you were amazing. Your whole team. I always said you would be a great captain."
She leans back to look at him, her fingers on his face. "You're pretty amazing yourself. It was nice to see you up there again. You looked like you were having fun."
"I was," he says. He should probably be more upset about the loss and his upcoming humiliation, but he's still just happy to have played.
Her head tilts to the side as she regards him. "So feeling better then?"
He doesn't have to ask since what. "Finally ready to admit you arranged this entire thing?"
She shrugs. "I thought we could all use a distraction."
He knows without asking that she did it for him as much as anyone. He gently touches her shoulder, remembering the bruise yesterday, the choking anger. "It's okay?"
Instead of answering, she reaches for the buttons on her shirt, undoing the top few. "I have a feeling you won't stop worrying until you see for yourself."
She isn't wrong about that.
Slipping her shirt off one shoulder, she turns so her back is to him.
Sure enough, the bruise is completely gone. He runs his thumb over the pale skin, telling himself it should be a relief.
"Now, the one on my thigh from that run-in with the Bludger is a different thing," she says.
But seeing Ginny swoop and dive and get winged by a Bludger still didn't induce half the panic seeing her go down under that curse had. He steps closer so her back is against his chest, closing his eyes as he breathes in the familiar scent of her hair.
She leans against him. "Want to see that one too?"
He knows she's teasing, trying yet again to lighten the mood, make him feel better. And he does feel better after the match, the sheer joy of it. Every part of their stupid shite talking and competition. But that doesn't erase the fact that he still doesn't know what to think about everything that happened yesterday in the DADA exam. The sheer fury is gone, but the pit in the bottom of his stomach isn't.
I would be honored to have any of you join the Auror Academy.
"Do you think it's really changed?" he finds himself asking.
Ginny turns around to look at him.
"The Ministry," he clarifies.
Her eyes take a slow sweep of his face as if looking for the origin of his question. "By Voldemort and the Death Eaters being removed?"
"Yeah," he says, letting his hands fall to her waist.
She doesn't answer right away, looking just past his shoulder, really considering her answer, and he's gratified not to be brushed off or instantly mollified. It makes him feel like it's actually a question worth asking.
She eventually returns her gaze to his face. "I asked Smita once, why she didn't come back. If it was really all about her mum's job and the healer program."
"Yeah?" Harry asks, not exactly clear what this has to do with anything.
"She said that was a lot of it. But also…" She pauses, her nose wrinkling like she's trying to remember Smita's exact wording. "She said that just because Voldemort is gone doesn't mean that the ideas that allowed him to come to power are gone too." She looks up at him. "Is that what you mean?"
It's not what he'd been thinking about at all, more focused on the Ministry's inherent flaws, ways of doing things, whether there is something specific to be fixed or if he's just being…contrary or insufferable or refusing to accept things the way they are. But to hear Ginny speak it, yes, that seems to give name to some unspoken worry.
A lot of people might shrug it off, try to point out that it isn't really his concern. But looking at Ginny, her serious, unflinching gaze, he doesn't feel arrogant for worrying, or for feeling in some small way that maybe it is his concern.
"Can the Ministry change?" he amends, because maybe he didn't quite ask the right question.
Ginny nods. "I don't know," she admits.
It should feel like a sidestep, but for some reason Ginny's uncertainty helps, like it's permission to not be sure himself, to wonder.
"I don't know either," he says.
She reaches out, her hand cradling his cheek. But there's also a sparkle in her eye.
"What?"
She shakes her head. "Just thinking about how good you're going to look in green and silver."
Dutifully, he lets out a groan, but privately thinks his punishment is a small enough price to pay for the look on her face. It's nice to see her smiling and flushed, so certain in her place on the pitch. It's hard to believe she once struggled to believe she could be a good captain.
At least her future seems clear.
"There's at least one good thing about this all being over, loss or not," he says, hand splaying across the small of her back.
"Yeah?" she says, letting him pull her closer. "And what's that?"
"Well, I'm no longer the enemy, right?"
"Hmm," she says, arms lifting around his neck. "Are you trying to bribe me with an offer to snog The Chosen One?"
He leans in, lowering his face until his nose brushes the soft skin below her ear. "Is that a tempting offer?"
She tilts her head to the side. "Depends on what you're trying to get out of the bargain, I suppose."
"Admit that my arse is not adorable in the slightest."
She laughs, rather boldly sliding her hand down his back to settle on his bum, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Definitely talented and brave," she says. "A very fierce arse. But still adorable."
"Sorry. Just for that, no snogging The Chosen One."
"Just as well," she says, winding her other hand up into his hair. "I'd rather snog you anyway."
Harry is more than happy to accept those terms.
As Harry walks down the hallway to breakfast, a particularly daring Slytherin witch approaches him, looking him up and down.
"Green is really your color, Potter," she says with a wink, and even Harry isn't so dense not to pick up on the suggestive nature of it.
Ginny wasn't content with him just transfiguring his tie, instead decking him out head to toe in green robes, trousers, and shoes, with an obnoxiously large silver Slytherin crest on his back. He supposes he's just lucky she didn't try to make him dye his hair. He's enough of a spectacle as it is.
Ignoring the witch, Harry continues walking straight ahead as if he hasn't noticed her.
Not two minutes later he gets glowered at by a younger Slytherin who seems mortally offended to see him 'playing at Slytherin.'
Ron chuckles, clearly taking far too much glee in Harry's predicament. "At first I thought making you wear Slytherin colors was a pretty weak choice, but Ginny really knew what she was doing, didn't she?"
Harry sighs. Despite it being the second morning he's been forced to wear them, the reactions have not dropped off at all. "You're really surprised?"
"No," Ron admits. He slaps a hand on his shoulder. "Well, you were the one who was stupid enough to bet her, so you only have yourself to blame."
Harry snorts. "And what wager did you make with her?"
Ron's face falls. "The only good thing about it is that my humiliation will have a smaller audience," he says obliquely.
They walk into the Great Hall together. The walls are swathed in Hufflepuff colors, having secured the House Cup at the Leaving Feast last night despite their second place finish in the Quidditch standings.
At least it's breakfast, all the students mixed up rather than sitting by house like at dinner, so he doesn't get anyone trying to tell him he's sitting at the wrong table.
Seamus still eyes his robes with distaste when he sits down with his plate. "As if losing weren't bad enough."
Harry plucks at his robes. "At least I can finally change out of these once we're on the train."
"And not one moment sooner," Ginny says in a sing-song voice as she strides by on her way to the breakfast buffet. "Can I get you some tea, Ron?"
His look of horror seems to be all Ginny hoped for. She laughs, walking off to sit with a collection of Slytherin girls.
"Ugh," Ron says, slumping over his meal. "I have to live in the same house with her all summer!"
"Plenty of chances to poison your tea," Dean says, nodding solemnly.
Ron lowers his head to the table.
An hour later, they are climbing onto the Hogwarts Express for the final time. It's not quite as Harry remembers it, the car they get onto having no compartments at all, rather one large space. No one else seems to think this is at all strange though, the train thrumming with excitement. Students are darting back and forth between different groups, laughing and playing games of Exploding Snap. Everything the way it always should have been.
He settles on a seat next to Ron, idly wondering when the trolley witch might come by, already anticipating a pumpkin pasty.
The train chugs into motion, speeding him towards London. Not back to the Dursleys or an uncertain summer. But back to his own place and his godson. Back to long summer days at the Burrow.
"Alright, mate?" Ron asks, nudging him in the arm.
"Yeah," Harry says. He smiles at him. "Everything's great."
"Good. Then kindly take those bloody things off, will you?" he says, gesturing at his robes.
Harry laughs.
The Burrow's garden is golden in the sunset, and the fading light catches Ginny's hair as she laughs at something Burke says. Harry watches her flit around the party, wearing a floral print dress that falls just above her knees but flares outward every time she moves.
There are loads of other familiar faces. There's Luna and Neville and Hannah. Ritchie and Jimmy are over in one corner talking to Vaisey and Rosier about Quidditch no doubt. Dean and Seamus are being far from circumspect over by the food table, while Padma, Parvati, and Lisa look like they're trying to sneak something into the punch bowl.
All newly graduated Hogwarts students with their NEWTs firmly behind them.
As the evening darkens, Hermione conjures a bunch of her flames in jars, spreading them around the tables. The yard echoes with laughter and music, and Harry's not sure he's ever felt quite this content.
Looking up from his conversation with Ron, Harry automatically looks for Ginny, but can't spot her in the crowd. He frowns, glancing around. He finally locates her on the far edge of the garden, standing by herself. Turning, she catches his eye, subtly canting her head towards the orchard.
Harry feels his stomach tighten. He glances at Ron and Hermione, but they are completely engrossed in one another, their cheeks flushed. It's possible the girls were successful in getting something slipped into the punch. Turning back to Ginny, he nods. She flashes him a bright grin before disappearing out the gate.
Harry lingers a bit, navigating the edges of the party before following after her.
He walks out into the trees, the blossoms rich and sweet in the night air.
"Have I mentioned," says a voice from behind him, "that you are annoyingly fit?"
Harry turns, finding Ginny leaning back against a tree, one knee lifted and her foot pressed to the trunk behind her.
He crosses over to her, only stopping when he is rather thoroughly invading her space. "You must be foxed," he murmurs, brushing a petal out of her hair.
"I am not," she says, looping her arms around his neck. "You're just bloody distracting. Can barely pay attention to people at my own party."
He presses a kiss to her shoulder, right where the short sleeve ends. "If anything is distracting, it's this dress."
"Yeah?" she asks.
He shrugs. "Not as distracting as you, but a close second."
She huffs. "Git," she says, somehow managing to layer the insult with affection.
He kisses her, his hands at her waist. It's slow and languorous, Ginny making a low sound at the back of her throat that makes Harry's skin tingle all over.
It inspires him to apply himself thoroughly to making Ginny relax in a way she rarely does other than when they are doing this. He takes pride in the fact that he can switch her brain off if he tries hard enough.
Harry has to consider that his brain isn't quite unaffected either, because it takes him far too long to register the sound of someone approaching. He pulls back, leaning around the tree, breathless giggles and heavy footfalls only getting closer. Ginny is the one to grab his hand and pull him down into a crouch. Her wand is out in a flash, casting a very impressive disillusionment charm around them.
A moment later, Hermione and Ron appear from between two trees. Ron grabs her around the waist, reeling her in. He then proceeds to devour her face, or so it appears to a highly irritated Harry.
Ginny turns into his shoulder with a low sound of disgust. Harry stares down at his toes and wonders how this is his life. He can only hope they move on before things go too far.
Without warning, a loud bang like an explosion echoes through the trees. Harry tenses, reaching for his wand, but in the following silence roars of laughter filter in from the party.
Ginny's hand kneads gently at Harry's shoulder, and he knows she didn't miss his reaction.
Thankfully Ron and Hermione were also startled by the noise, no longer plastered up against one another. They disappear further off into the trees.
"Ugh," Ginny says once they are gone. "I could have lived without seeing that."
"I've seen worse," he mutters.
"Oh really?" she asks, peering up at him.
He grimaces.
He isn't sure who breaks first, but somehow they are both laughing, slumping against each other.
She threads her fingers through his, laughter dancing in her eyes even as her expression softens. She runs her thumb across his palm. "We made it."
She almost sounds like she can't believe it.
Harry lets his eyes travel over her face, focusing on the way her hand feels natural and right in his, the comfort of her shoulder against his. What it feels like to sit at the base of this tree with her and having nothing hanging over them. No imminent separations. No looming mission. There's nothing but her.
Reaching out, he pulls her up into his lap. "I never doubted it."
She smiles, leaning down to kiss him.
They have nothing but the long stretch of summer ahead of them.
.fin.