CHAPTER XII
Harry narrowed his eyes, watching the small figure of Hermione as she ran back up towards the teacher's stand. Her face was flushed and she looked guilty, although Harry couldn't see clearly. A short sharp blow on a whistle brought him out of his thoughts; the game had begun. As usual, Dean Thomas' voice was heard loudly in Harry's ear as he watched the game taking place.
"The Quaffle is up – possessed by Baddock – intercepted by Finnigan … that's it Seamus … you show those Slytherins – NO – Baddock has regained the Quaffle – changed direction – heading for the goalpost – Weasley getting ready – knocks it away with the trail of his broom – an excellent save from the fantastic Gryffindor keeper."
Harry grinned, glancing over at the teacher's stand. He knew what Dean was doing; he was trying to make the players of his team stand out in comparison to the Slytherins. He saw out of the corner of his eye, a small figure creep along the benches and sit next to one of the Cannons officials. He realised it was Hermione and sighed with relief, she had returned.
"The older Creevey brother now tearing down the field – a high-flying Bludger quickly hit away by Patil – flying towards the posts – over Parkinson – round Crabbe – over Pritchard – go Colin! Near the posts," Dean voices drifted off as he leant over the barrier of the stand to try and get a better look, "he throws the Quaffle – he scores! GRYFFINDOR, TEN; SLYTHERIN, ZERO."
Dean's voice could barely be heard over the excited screams of the Gryffindors. Harry's grin remained planted firming on his face. Daring to take a glance at his main rival, Malfoy, he saw that the blond boy was glowering at his team mates. Harry almost laughed; there were only a few times when he had seen Malfoy really angry and he knew enough to know that this was one of those times.
"The Quaffle in Parkinson's arms – Creevey comes into tackle." Harry leant over the front of his broomstick, still looking for the Snitch, but interested in what was happening in the game. He saw Dennis Creevey flying through the air towards Pansy Parkinson, who held the Quaffle tightly under her arm. He widened his eyes in surprise as Pansy darted out of his way in a very elaborate move.
Judging from the sound of his voice, Dean was obviously shocked too. "Well – that was a very careless move," he retorted, as Pansy failed in her attempt to escape Dennis, "and Creevey back with the Quaffle – watch out for the Bludger." Harry could hear the collective sigh of relief from his schoolmates, as a Bludger flew past Dennis' head, missing it by a few centimetres.
"Getting closer to the goal – closer and closer," Dean's voice was getting more and more high-pitched with excitement, "nearly there Dennis – and he sc – NO – Parkinson has come on the inside and stolen the Quaffle." Harry eyes drifted away from the action on the Quidditch pitch. It seemed both teams wanted to impress and, in doing so, it wasn't highly likely that either would score many goals.
Squinting through the blur of red and green shapes zipping through the air, Harry thought he saw a glimmer of gold hovering near the ground. Aware of Malfoy's sharp eyes always on him, Harry didn't move. Instead, he studied the area subtly to see whether or not it was indeed the Snitch. At that moment, the game moved to an area just under where he was hovering, blocking his view. Deciding to take a risk, Harry flew quickly towards the other players, hoping the group would break up before he reached them.
"And Potter – the fantastic Gryffindor Seeker and Captain is on a mission – gathering speed – flying towards the ground. Watch out players – Potter's on the war-path! And here's Malfoy – right on his tail – GO Harry!" Dean stopped abruptly. Professor McGonagall was glaring at him, silently punishing him for his obvious bias towards his own team. On the far side of the Professor, Dean could see Mr Froupin's excited face smiling at him, before he returned his attention to the game.
Harry was still speeding towards the groups of players gathered in the centre of the field. Break up; break up quick, he thought desperately, as he drew ever nearer and considered moving out to dart around them. Luckily, Seamus had seen Harry rapidly approaching them and, taking some initiative, had grabbed the Quaffle and sped off towards the other end of the pitch.
The other players quickly dispersed; the Slytherins chased Seamus, while the Gryffindors positioned themselves around the field. Harry took this chance to lean even further forward on his broomstick, in an attempt to pick up more speed. He hadn't realised just how far forward he had leant until he found his cheek resting on the side of the wooden broom.
He could sense rather than hear that Malfoy was right behind him and had probably, by this time, also seen the Snitch. The sounds all around him had disappeared and he focused slowly on the small golden blur near the bottom of the field. Harry narrowed his eyes in deep concentration and pulled him broomstick tight to him as he pointed it vertically at the ground. Now, going down at an even greater speed, Harry kept his eyes on the ground which was ever coming closer.
Scanning the area carefully, Harry realised he was only a few metres away from it. He pulled his broomstick back to it's horizontal position and stretched out a hand to grab the tiny ball. He wasn't even aware of Malfoy closeness; all he could think about was winning this game. He had to win it, he just had to, he said, over and over, in his head.
Just as Harry was about to close his fingers around the Snitch, he felt a sharp jolt at the top of his arm, a pain which sent shivers of agony searing through his body. Harry gasped, unable to concentrate on anything but this feeling of pain. He closed his eyes and squeezed them tightly shut, willing the feeling to go away.
In his last few moments of consciousness, Harry made one final effort to grab at the golden Snitch, but it sped off at the last moment. A quick draft of air past his right ear told Harry that Malfoy had flown after it. He tried to turn his broomstick in the direction that the Snitch had gone, but his arm felt limp and wouldn't hold onto the handle properly. Harry knew only the deep throbbing of pain as he fell to the ground.
Hermione looked on in shock. She had been watching the game, in silence, from the teacher's stand; her face full of fear and anxiety. She had returned to the teacher's stand just seconds after Madam Hooch had blown the starting whistle. Slipping silently into the stand, Hermione had sat on the end of the bench which she had reached first. Giving a quick smile to Mr Lyfinkle, she had sat next to him and had begun to watch the game.
The game had begun relatively well. Dean was making his usual biased comments against the Slytherins, the Gryffindor players were definitely using some of their best moves, the whole school was cheering; yet Hermione couldn't bring herself to smile. The words of Malfoy still rang in her ears, what had made her agree to do it, she thought angrily, she was putting her best friend's life at risk, and for what? For Malfoy? Hermione's face flushed bright red at the thought of it.
She watched the game wearily, knowing what was going to happen. If only she could stop the game somehow. Even as she thought it, she knew it was a hopeless wish. This was, after all, one of the most important matches that Harry had ever played. Furthermore, this was the match that everyone in the school had been talking about.
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, raising her binoculars so that she could see the action better. The first figure she saw through them was that of Draco Malfoy. Hermione gasped and jumped back; Malfoy was staring menacingly right at her. Hermione's lip wavered, what was he so upset about, she wondered, she had done everything he had asked.
Hermione quickly adjusted her view and, with the aid of the binoculars, looks around the field. Harry was busily scanning the field for any sign of the Snitch. She smiled; she knew that this was an important game for her best friend and that he was hoping to be able to get onto the team. she watched Harry for a little longer, a feeling of dread creeping across her heart, what had she done, she asked herself angrily.
Hermione lowered the binoculars, listening instead to the clear voice of Dean Thomas as he commentated the events of the match. The whole school was cheering on the game and her lack of enthusiasm easily went unnoticed. Even Mr Jekydson had stopped muttering in Snape's ear and was watching the game intently.
Gryffindor scored the first goal and the entire school, excluding the Slytherins, jumped to their feet wildly screaming Colin's name. The Slytherins, in their usual manner, sat glued to their seats glaring evilly at the Gryffindor supports who sat a little away from them.
Hermione, having lifted the binoculars back to her eyes, focused on the figures of Harry and Malfoy who sat high above the game scanning the air eagerly for the Snitch. As she watched them she saw Harry's head jerk back. He's seen the Snitch, Hermione thought nervously, willing herself to believe it wasn't true. Don't go for it Harry, she muttered under her breath. She knew her almost silent plea was useless. With one look at Malfoy, Harry dived towards the ground. Hermione mouth unconsciously fell open; Malfoy was right on his tail.
As Harry neared the ground, he began to pull the front of his broom upwards to straighten it out. He had reached out a hand, and had almost closed his fingers around the small ball. Hermione saw Malfoy shuffle on his broomstick and she held her breath, knowing what was going to happen. Almost too quickly, Harry had fallen from his broomstick, clutching his arm as he lay motionless on the ground.
An excited yet nervous murmur rose from the stands full of students, the teachers looked down onto the field. Instantly, Professor McGonagall was running down the stairs from the teacher's stand and within seconds was racing across the field to where Harry lay. Hermione sat, silent and still, looking through the binoculars to try and get a better view.
She was suddenly aware that the whole school had gone quiet; most peering over the barriers to try and see what was going on, and the Quidditch players, one by one, lowering their broomsticks to the ground. And Malfoy, Hermione realised as she moved the binoculars so that she could look around the field, had caught the Snitch, but was also returning to the ground, his face expressionless.
Hermione felt her throat tighten; how could he act so cool, she thought angrily, after all he had done. Reluctantly, Hermione lowered the binoculars and, leaning forward, placed her head in her hands, sobbing gently. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder but shrugged it off, wanting to be alone.
After a few moments, Hermione wiped her eyes and silently stood before making her way down from the teacher's stand. Harry was still lying in the middle of the Quidditch pitch with an assortment of students and teachers standing around him. Hermione slipped away unnoticed, running until she reached the confines of the castle.
Not knowing where to go, Hermione slowed herself to a walk. Within minutes she reached the Gryffindor tower. "Fiddlesticks," she muttered the password to the Fat Lady. The door sprang open, yet Hermione didn't move. "Damn," she cried, pulling it shut and running back down the stairs. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Hermione looked around her; she was alone, the whole castle was empty.
Without much thought, Hermione began to wander aimlessly down the first corridor that she came to. She was deeply immersed in her own thoughts before she thought to look around herself. She stopped suddenly, looking around anxiously. Where was she, she thought nervously. She had known that it wasn't wise to wander the corridors of Hogwarts alone, but in her state of misery she had completely overlooked this. Turning to look back in the direction she had come from didn't give Hermione much reassurance. She didn't recognise the corridor and she could see that at the end it split into two passageways. In her dreamlike condition she hadn't even noticed which way she had been turning, just that she needed to get away.
"Why, there you are," she heard a cold voice from behind her murmur in her left ear, "I've been looking all over for you." Before Hermione had even had the chance to react, a pair of arms clasped around her waist, picking her up and pulling her into a room which led off from the corridor. Hermione was set down, spun around roughly and, once again, before she had a chance to even look up, was slapped harshly across the face.
From the force of the impact Hermione fell forwards on to the warm chest of her attacker. Her cheek stung and she raised a hand and held her gingerly on top of the growing red mark. Tears welled up in her eyes; not only of the pain but also for the fright she now felt. She didn't raise her head as she allowed the tears to flow freely down her face and, instead, stayed where she was.
After a few moments, Hermione heard a sigh and felt arms wrapping themselves around her. She felt a hand in her hair, gently taking hold of a few locks before letting them fall down her back. Another came lower, gently holding her in the small of her back. Hermione stopped sobbing and slowly raised her face, inch by inch.
She took in the solid jaw, the thin lips pursed tightly together. Pale skin covered his face although his cheeks were flushed red both from excitement and a pain within. His eyes, a cool blue colour, expressed no emotion as he held the shaking girl. Hermione tried to pull away from Malfoy, but as she struggled she knew it was pointless, he was in control and he knew it.
Malfoy looked down at her face, acknowledging the looks of both fear and denial that he saw in her eyes. Gently he brought one hand around from the back of her head and held it tenderly across her cheek. He watched as Hermione started, shocked by his touch upon the skin which was still smarting from where he had hit her.
Hermione watched him intently, taking notice of all his movements, even those that his eyes made. She watched as his eyes darted across her face, looking deep into her own. As he touched her face, she jumped slightly. Hermione saw his eyes melt and emotion pour into them. Swiftly, he brought his face down to her level, turned her face to the side and kissed her tenderly on her cheek. Hermione eyes prickled again, why did she act like this around Malfoy? she willed herself to stop what was happening.
Malfoy made small kisses leading up to her left ear. He noticed that she had clenched her jaw but didn't not stop. Slowly he allowed his tongue to trail down toward her chin before he gently took her bottom lip into his mouth. For a while, Hermione didn't respond. She was still deep in thought over the night's events and was shocked by his tender nature. Gradually, Hermione lifted her head and kissed Malfoy back. As the kiss went on, Hermione stood on tiptoes and, raising her arms, draped them casually around his neck. Encouraged, Malfoy lifted her up lightly and sat her on the edge of a desk.
Neither teenager heard a small voice calling out in the distance. Still absorbed completely in their kisses, Hermione and Malfoy didn't even notice the door opening. "Hermi - oh," Ron's shocked voice couldn't utter anymore words as he just froze at the doorframe. Hermione looked away embarrassed and squirmed about. Malfoy quickly lifted his hand from where it had been creeping inside her robes to rest on the thin material of her T-shirt, and turned to glare at the intruder.
"Weasley," he sneered, "come to join in on the fun have you?" Malfoy's voice was full of sarcasm. Hermione quickly elbowed Malfoy in the ribs, causing him to double-over in pain.
"Ron," she started as her best friend began to run out of the door, "Ron!" By the time she had reached the door, Ron was down the other end of the corridor. Giving up, Hermione sighed and turned back to face Malfoy. He was now standing upright, a smug grin crept across his face as he sauntered over to where she stood, one hand on her hip.
Quickly, he whipped his arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him and held her protectively against his chest. "Hermione?" he asked her, looking for reassurance. He found none however, and frowned as Hermione pushed herself away from him and turned for the door.
Before fleeing back down the corridor, Hermione turned to face him once more, scowling. "Haven't you done enough Draco?" she spat at him. Turning sharply on her heel, Hermione walked quickly down the corridor, still unsure as to which path she should take. Half-expecting Malfoy to follow her, Hermione was surprised, yet slightly disappointed, that she heard no footsteps behind her.