Here's the new chapter! I know I said I would have updated during the weekend, but it seems I'm always one day late on my schedule; anyway, I hope you like it. As always, Enjoy, Read and Review!

Chapter 13: Of St Valentine's Days and Vindictive Snakes

Hermione's POV:

Time passed incredibly fast after that day, bringing along a warm wind which promised an early spring and a whole lot of new events: first of all, for three weeks Malfoy could be seen walking around the castle with a purple bruise on his nose, rousing sniggers and whispers from Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and shameless cheers from every single Gryffindor in school; everyone knew I had been the one to cause that bruise, and I soon became the new hero of my house. Harry and Ginny officially became a couple, even if only after the Twins found them kissing in an empty classroom during break and ran into the Great Hall to shout the news to everyone in a ten-yards hearing range; apparently, before that episode they thought no one had noticed they were unofficially together – which would have been incredibly thick, considering that whenever Ginny disappeared Harry was nowhere to be found too. And the Slytherins started to shoot me murdering glares as I passed, to the point that I took the habit of changing direction whenever I spotted a numerous group of students of their house, finding shelter among my friends or using an excuse to talk to a teacher.

I knew I was running, but wasn't ashamed: I knew perfectly well that the Slytherins would have hit me back to avenge Malfoy if they had the chance, and if the hit came from Tyger or Goyle, I would have ended up with a broken nose at the very least.

That morning, anyway, those thoughts were far away from my mind, and my spirits were incredibly high: it was a Friday, outside there was a wonderful sun – a blessing after four whole weeks of incessant rain – and it was the fourteenth of February – St Valentine's day. I had always loved the celebration, since when I was little: every year my father used to come home with a rose for each of us (red for Mom and pink for Emma and I); then he would take us all, 'women of his life' as he liked to call us, out to dinner. As long as I remembered, he hadn't missed a single year.

I smiled at my reflection as I buttoned up my shirt and fixed my tie, singing softly to myself; I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to untangle it a bit, put on a light makeup and grabbed by bag, literally skipping downstairs.

"Good morning, darling," Aunt Elspeth greeted me as I entered the kitchen, pushing a mug of steaming coffee toward me. "How come you are this happy?"

I shrugged, hiding my smile behind the cup, and sat down; there were some slices of toasted bread on a plate, and I took one, buttering it before spreading cherry jam – my favourite – on it.

"Has a young man with red hair anything to do with it?" she asked casually, pouring herself a glass of orange juice; I felt my face go red, and she smirked at me from over her newspaper.

"Come on, honey, you have spent every free minute of your time with him in the last month, I would be blind if I didn't see how much you two care about each other; today it's the celebration of love, there's nothing wrong in being happy. When I was your age, I was too; every girl in school looked forward to see what the boys would have organized . Albus was one of the most inventive; I heard that since he became Headmaster he always organizes something for the students."

It was odd, hearing her say Professor Dumbledore's name; to us all in school he was 'the Headmaster', nothing more, as though he wasn't a normal person, and he was born that way, silver beard and half-moon shaped spectacles included. Knowing that he had been a student too, just like any of us, was a bit incredible, even if obvious at the same time.

"Happy St Valentine's Day!" Emma squealed happily, jumping on her chair and grabbing the milk jug with a huge grin on her face.

She was dressed up as usual, plain blue jeans and her favourite strawberry pink hoodie, but I noticed she had put two red heart-shaped hairpins in her hair, pulling her always ruffled fringe back from her face.

Apparently, she had found a way to celebrate the day even in her clothes – a thing she loved doing: at Christmas, she always dressed up in red from head to toe; at San Patrick's day, she always wore something green and clover-shaped (hairpins, a pendant, or button earrings), and such. Whenever I asked her why it was so important to her, she simply answered that if a particular day was to be celebrated there was a reason, and that the best way to do so was reminding everyone else that, in her mood as well as in her clothes. The first time she told that, she was three, and Mom and I had looked at her in such shock that she burst out laughing like mad, suggesting us to close our mouths before we could swallow a fly.

She had always been clever – and I really meant it, not just because she was my sister – and I often wondered what the results would have be if I put an IQ test in front of her. I was sure she would have surprised me.

"God, look at what time it is, Luna and her father will be here to pick us up in a minute!"

I gulped down the rest of my toast, along with the last sip of coffee, and jumped up, instinctively reaching out to take my crutches; it took me a moment to remember that I didn't need them anymore, that I would have never needed them again. I smiled to myself and hurried upstairs to brush my teeth and grab my jumper – a red one that day, bright and lively as the sunny day outside.

When, a few minutes later, I got in the Lovegoods' car and saw Luna, I couldn't help but smiling: her waist-length wavy hair was pulled back in two long braids, each of which had a huge, furry red heart pinned to the end, and her earrings followed the same pattern (they were two long chains of small interwoven golden hearts), dangling from her earlobes and almost brushing her shoulders. For what I could see, there were hearts carefully sewed on her schoolbag as well, made out of what looked like felt, of several sizes and colours. The effect was nice, and totally Luna-like; on anyone else it would have looked ridiculous, but on her it was absolutely cute.

We got to school a bit earlier than usual, and we walked to the doors in no hurry, observing the scene before us: despite it was still twenty minutes to the bell, the garden was already packed with students; everywhere there were couples holding hands, and here and a group young girls – probably third or fourth years by the look of them – standing by the door whispered and giggled, while boys blushed and walked away quickly, or tentatively smiled back at them.

We had barely stepped in that Luna was spotted by Neville, who looked like he had been waiting for her by the door for a while – which probably was; he dragged her away, smiling, and Luna waved at me happily before following him down the corridor.

I shook my head, smiling – the two of them looked like they were meant for each other, and in the last days they had become so overly sweet our group had practically kicked them out, adding 'sloppiness-induced nausea' as an excuse.

When I reached the row of lockers at the end of the corridor, I found that the spot in front of number 77 was occupied. I sighed: of all the places, did Ginny and Harry have to snog in front of my locker? Please.

"Breathe, guys," I said a little amused, tapping my foot as they turned to look at me. Ginny went tomato red to the roots of her hair, muttering a 'sorry' with a half-guilty, half-embarassed smile, and harry simply smirked, looking totally unashamed, lacing his fingers with Ginny's and leading her away; I had a strong suspect Fred and George would have kicked them away too soon enough, they were competing with Luna and Neville in sloppiness since they officially came together.

But as I looked around, I noticed that everyone I knew was with his or her sweetheart, while there was no sign of the tousled red head I was looking for. He hadn't forgotten what day it was, had him? Or maybe he had; maybe he wasn't the St Valentine's type.

I was so distracted at first I didn't notice the object laying in my locker, placed on top of my books; only when I outstretched my hand to take my Trigonometry text I realized what it was.

I took it carefully, widening my eyes: it was a rose – a white rose, its perfect petals the same colour as freshly-fallen snow, and there was something tied around its stem, holding onto its curved thorns, something shiny… A thin silver chain, hung to which was a delicate heart-shaped pendant, with the most graceful pattern of flowers and leaves engraved around its contours. I was speechless; it was absolutely wonderful.

"I hope you like it," whispered a voice in my ear. I turned, and there he was, his ears pinker than ever as he looked at me in the eye.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak; I felt a slight tightness in my throat, and I was positively sure that my eyes were a little shiny with a few happy tears.

"It's perfect," I whispered eventually, untangling the chain from the rose's thorns. I handed him the necklace, turning and pushing my hair to the side, exposing my neck.

"Would you help me put it on?" I asked him, blushing a little.

He smiled, his blue eyes sparkling, and he quickly locked the chain around my neck before taking me in his arms, gently lifting my face to kiss me. I sighed, leaning into him, and closed my eyes, melting into his embrace. I wondered how he could be so perfect and sweet in every moment, how he could guess exactly what to do or say. I would have never understood that, I was sure.

"Have a look inside," he suggested, a little breathless, when we parted, the tips of his fingers brushing the pendant. I gave him a puzzled look and turned it in my fingers; I hadn't noticed, but there were tiny hinges on one side. The chain was just long enough for me to look at the locket, and I opened it, curious.

The inside was divided in two parts: in one there was a small picture of Ron and I – it was one we took in November, two weeks after I arrived; I was pretty sure there were Harry, Ginny and the Twins in it too, but they must have been cut out; in the other, instead, was engraved one single word in a curly, delicate cursive.

Forever.

I pressed a hand to my mouth as my heart swelled, making me think it was about to explode, and I felt a single tear escaping my eyes and rolling down my face.

"Thank you," I said simply, hugging him and burying my face in his shoulder.

He pulled me closer and pressed his lips to the top of my hair, his arms tight and protective around me.

There was no need for words, not in that moment.

Ron's POV:

It got to school awfully early that morning – when I arrived the corridors were still deserted, except for Hagrid and Filch, who I carefully avoided as I walked to Hermione's locker; the old caretaker was well known for punishing the students for reasons as 'breathing loudly' or 'looking arrogant', and I couldn't risk my plan to fail just because of him. He would have probably dragged me to his office and given me detention for 'furtive walking' or something like that; not that it wouldn't have been funny, seeing him yelling at me and accusing me of being an irremediable criminal, but that day I didn't want to spoil everything just to make Filch angry.

I reached her locker, number 77, and opened it; I had seen her inserting the combination so many times I knew it by memory. Then I took the white rose sticking out of my bag – I didn't want to ruin its petals putting it inside with the books, since I had spent half an hour in the flowers' shop that morning (I was lucky the owner always opened very early in the morning on St Valentine's day) before choosing it, the most perfect of the lot – and I reached in my pocket to take the locket.

I had found it by chance as I was wandering downtown the previous week; it was in the stained window of a small knick-knacks' shop I had never entered before, just at the corner with Knocturn Alley.

I had looked at the things in the window more out of bore than in real interest, and it had immediately caught my eye. I had made my mind and walked in the shop, to get out five minutes later with the locket in my pocket, wrapped in a piece of maroon paper.

I was expecting it to cost a little fortune, instead the old woman at the counter almost gave it to me for free; apparently, she had had it in the shop for so long she just wanted to get rid of it, and I had to insist to pay five pounds for it. I knew both the chain and the locket were made of silver, and it would have felt like stealing, taking it without giving nothing in change.

I wrapped the chain around the stem of the flower so that the thorns would keep hold of it, and then placed everything on top of her books, so that she would have seen it immediately when she opened her locker to get her things.

And then I just waited, leaning against the side of the last locker, knowing that she wouldn't have seen me there unless she turned the corner. I saw Luna and Neville passing by, and then Harry and Ginny, who started kissing right in front of Hermione's locker. God, the two of them were really starting to get on my nerves; yes, Harry was my best friend since our first year at Hogwarts, but seeing him always glued to my little sister was a bit odd, to say the least. If they got on like that, Fred and George would have kicked them away from our usual table, just like we did the previous week with Luna and Neville – the two of them were really too much for anyone of us to take.

And then there she was, walking alone to her locker and looking around as though she was looking for someone; I felt a bit guilty for hiding like that, but I so wanted to see her reaction to the rose and the locket without staying in the way.

I almost burst out laughing as she shamelessly interrupted Harry and Ginny, seeming both amused and a little annoyed as they walked away quickly, Harry looking pretty smug, while Ginny's face was the same colour of her hair from embarrassment. Good, two more minutes and I would have walked out to part them myself.

Then she opened the locker, her hand reaching out automatically to get the books she needed, and I saw her eyes widening as she stopped. She took the rose in her hands, with a tender smile playing on her lips and the most becoming blush tinting her cheeks of faint pink. She looked happy, and so beautiful she took my breath away.

Apparently, I had chosen the right gift.

We walked to class together, Hermione tucked safely in my side as we went, my arm around her; I could have spent a lifetime holding her close, and yet it wouldn't have been long enough for me.

In the empty half of the locket that single word, forever, promised eternity; I wished I could give her so much, a lifetime of keeping her safe. Because in the last month I had started to realize, I was into it much, much deeper than I ever expected, and lately three small words had started to dance back and forth in my mind, begging to be spoken out loud. I always pushed them away, knowing that it wasn't the right moment, that they had to wait a few more weeks, or maybe a few more months, before they could be let out; it would have had to be the perfect moment, something she would have remembered. Then, and only then, I would have told her I was in love with her.

Hermione's POV:

The whole day passed in a state of pure bliss; even Chemistry couldn't damage my mood, and I smiled during the whole hour, earning several glares from Snape, which I ignored completely.

The bell signalling the end of last hour came sooner than I expected, and I found myself in front of my locker again, putting away the books I wouldn't have needed during the weekend, while Ron played with my hair, twirling a lock around his finger.

"How about coming to watch our practice today?" he asked, smiling; the following day Gryffindor would have had its second match against Slytherin, and Harry had insisted the team practiced that afternoon, with much of Ginny's dismay.

I looked at Ron, pretending to think about it as he folded his arms over his chest and waited, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

"I think I might come," I said, smiling and reaching on my tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the lips. "But I'll do some homework in the meantime, or I won't be able to catch up with everything we have due on Monday."

He chuckled, kissing the tip of my nose and throwing his football rucksack over his shoulder.

"You don't need to catch up, you are the top of our year already. Top of the school probably," he uttered, lacing his fingers with mine.

I smiled and followed him outside, towards the football pitch. We were halfway through the way when I suddenly remembered: I needed to get my History book, but then I got distracted talking with Ron and I forgot. I had to take it, or I wouldn't have been able to write the essay Professor Binn assigned us.

"I forgot my book inside! You go down to the pitch, I'll join you in a few minutes, ok?" I told Ron with a grimace, adjusting my bag on my shoulder before hurrying up the hill again. Luckily the caretaker seemed to be nowhere around, or he would have probably yelled at me for staying at school late.

I opened my locker and grabbed my book, stuffing it quickly in my bag; how could I be always so distracted when Ron was anywhere around?

I slammed the metal door shut and made the move to walk away, but I stopped, looking around and frowning. It was improbable, because the school was deserted at that time, but I had the impression someone was looking at me. There was no one there, so I just shook my head, adjusting my red-and-gold scarf around my neck and turning to leave.

Then I froze: in the middle of the corridor, where ten seconds before there was no one, was standing Malfoy, his sneering face full of despise.

"Going anywhere, Mudblood?" he asked, his voice almost amused.

I stepped back instinctively, and he walked forward, his smile growing wider and wider.

"I told you," he said casually, as though he was talking about our latest Chemistry assignment, "That payback is a bitch. Seems it's my turn to teach you a lesson."

Ron's POV:

I poked my head out of the changing rooms' door, and I noticed the terraces were completely empty, no trace of Hermione. She should have already come back by then, it had been over ten minutes since she ran back to the castle. I had to admit, I was a little worried; she was still a bit unsteady sometimes, when it she fell?

I walked back to my locker, pretending to rummage through it as though I was looking for something, and I scoffed loudly, so that my teammates could hear me.

"Must have forgotten my sweatpants in the locker up to the castle," I muttered, throwing my jacket on over my Gryffindor t-shirt. "I'm going to run and get them, ok? Sorry guys, I'll be back in a minute."

With that I left, running across the pitch and up the hill; I was sure nothing had happened, Hermione had probably stopped talking to a teacher or getting something in the library, but for some reason I had a bad feeling about it. Checking wouldn't have done any harm.

I slipped in the castle, sneaking past Filch, who was muttering to himself as he washed the floor of the teachers' room, and running down the corridor to where the lockers were. I turned the corner, and I stopped dead in my tracks as I took in the scene before me.

Hermione was walking back slowly, as Malfoy walked towards her, forcing her to draw back to get away from him. The Slytherin had his back at me, and Hermione was so focused on him she didn't even see me; I could see she was scared, even if she was trying to hide it from Malfoy.

"How about walking around with a nice bruise on your nose for a while, Granger?" he asked, his sneer evident in his voice as he took another step towards her. She drew back, and her back hit the row of lockers; he had left her no way out.

I felt blood boiling in my veins as he roughly grabbed her wrist to keep her from running; how dared him even laying a finger on her?

"Consider it justice, Mudblood," he said, his tone almost bored, as though he wanted to take things short. "You punch me, I punch you. I've been merciful, Tiger and Goyle wanted to do it for me, but I thought that maybe breaking bones was a little too much. You are going to pay for the shame you threw on me though, playing hero with your housemates as I was laughed at from the whole school."

He took another step forward, and Hermione pressed her back even more into the lockers, trying to put as much distance as she could between the two of them.

"Get away from her," I snarled then, closing the distance between us in four long strides. "Now."

Malfoy's head snapped up as he heard my voice, and Hermione took advantage of his distraction to push hard against him, making him stumble and running out of his reach, coming to stand by my side; she put a hand on my arm, and I felt it was shaking.

The little bastard had crossed the line one time too much.

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall, hard; he was several inches shorter than me, I would have had an easy game with him.

"You filthy scum, how dare you?" I muttered, lifting my arms so that he had to stand on his toes to stay upright. "Waiting for her to be alone, trying to hurt her…"

Malfoy whimpered something intelligible, and I slammed him in the wall again.

"Coward," I spat through my teeth, feeling disgust rising in my chest as I looked at him. "When you try to beat a girl it's fine, but with someone bigger than you it's not that easy, right? No, it's your friends who take care of those like me in these cases, while you run hiding. But your friends are not here today."

He writhed, trying to get free, his expression so pitiful he almost made me laugh; he was just a worm, a weak, spineless coward . I grabbed him and threw him down on the floor, hard, walking back to where Hermione was standing a little shakily. I stroked her cheek, asking for her forgiveness for being almost late, and then turned back to Malfoy, who was still on the floor, looking shocked and shaken.

"You dare even speaking to her again," I warned him, trying to highlight the threat in my voice, "And I swear, I will make you regret it."

I made the move to go away, and Malfoy's voice echoed behind me.

"Why didn't you hit me, Weasley? Scared of hurting yourself?"

How could he sink so low? Trying to provoke me, hoping I would have swallowed the bait and hit him, so that he could go and denounce me to the teachers?

"I don't fight with cowards who don't even have the gut to defend themselves," I just said, calmly; then I placed my arm around Hermione's waist and led her away.

Only when we were outside I stopped, drawing a deep breath to calm myself.

I took her hand and kissed her wrist, which still had a red mark around it where Malfoy had grabbed her, and a moment later she was in my arms, holding tightly onto me.

"I've lost count of how many times I've said it recently," she said, her voice muffled by my shoulder. "But thank you. I'd probably be walking up to the infirmary looking for Madam Pomfrey by now if you didn't come to look for me."

I kept an arm around her as we walked down the hill to the pitch; Harry and the others would have killed me, I was gone for ages.

"I'm sorry I didn't get there earlier; if I just walked you to the castle nothing would have happened," I said under my breath, grimacing.

"Hey, nothing happened anyway. You got there in time, just like a hero."

I smiled down at her, amused.

"So, now I'm a hero?" I asked, mocking her a bit.

"Yeah," she said, stopping and standing on her tiptoes to kiss me. "My hero."

Hermione's POV:

On Saturday morning the sky was of a perfect, cloudless blue, and the sun was even warmer than the day before; we couldn't have had better weather conditions for the match. I had never liked sport much, but since I started attending Hogwarts, I hadn't missed a single match of the Football Cup.

That would have been Gryffindor's second and last match of the year against Slytherin, and, according to Aunt Elspeth, it had to be celebrated properly. So, after a quick breakfast, the three of us squeezed in Aunt Elspeth's old car, all of us dressed in red and gold, Emma holding in her hands a huge Gryffindor flag with our rampant lion on it, and we went to the castle.

The school was already packed with parents and kids when we arrived, and I was pleased to notice that most of the crowd held Gryffindor's scarves, flags and banners; the fight for the Cup was between us and the Slytherins, and apparently Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students had decided that, if they had to choose one of the two teams, Gryffindor was the best.

We slid along the terraces to where all the Weasleys, plus the Lovegoods and Potters, were sitting in a tight group, banners saying 'Weasleys Legends' and 'Potter Rules' flapping in the gentle wind above their heads; they all greeted us happily, squeezing a bit to make room for us too. I saw several familiar faces among the crowd – Madam Rosmerta, from the Three Broomsticks, holding out a Gryffindor flag attached to what looked like, well, a broomstick; Martha Malkin, wearing a red jumper with Gryffindor emblem on it, and Madam Pomfrey, the matron, who had a long red-and-gold striped scarf wrapped around her neck – and I was surprised to see that not only students and their families were there, but also people from the town, ex-students and such. It made me think that once you were a Gryffindor, you were for your whole life.

More people joined us – Parvati and Padma Patil, Neville, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Hannah Abbott, the Hufflepuff girl from Botanic, with a group of their housemates, and many more, some of them from other houses and whom I barely knew, all of them wearing the colours of my house in a way or the other. We talked and laughed together, flags and banners passing from hand to hand as we unrolled them so that they were clearly visible from the other side of the pitch, where sat the small patch of silver and green of Slytherin; I was sure they were eating their livers seeing how many people was on Gryffindor's side that day – and, I had to be honest, they deserved it.

Around eleven thirty Professor McGonagall climbed up the terraces to the commenter's podium, followed closely by Lee Jordan, who had a huge grin on his face; it was about to start, and the whole crowd hushed as Lee cleared his voice and began his commentary.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to today's match: Slytherin – Gryffindor, the favourites for the Football Cup this year! We all know of the centuries-long rivalry between the two houses, and today things will be sorted out: the best team will get to its house many points, and with every probability the Cup at the end of May, too! So…here's Slytherin!"

A small pool of cheers echoed from the Slytherins as Lee listed without too much enthusiasm: "Malfoy! Tiger! Goyle! Bulstrode! Parkinson! Flint!" and other names as the players ran in the pitch one by one.

"And here's Gryffindor's team! C'mon, folks, let's make them hear how many of us are here today for them!" Lee bellowed, raising his hands in the air and adding his voice to the hundreds of cheers erupting from every spot in the terraces; many of us, including Mrs Weasley, Ginny and I, jumped on our feet as we shouted, our voices joining the chorused off-key anthems which were being started in several patches of crowd.

I was positively sure I wouldn't have heard anything after that, but I didn't care: the excited atmosphere was highly infectious, and I couldn't stop grinning and yelling as our commenter – who was obviously far from being impartial, as always – yelled enthusiastically the names of the players.

Madam Hooch walked to the middle of the pitch with the football under her arm and her silver whistle already between her teeth.

"Captains – shake hands!" she ordered. Harry and Malfoy stepped forward and obeyed, looking as though they were trying to break each other's fingers in the process.

Then the ball was put down, and the game started.

"Bulstrode has the ball – Tyger – Malfoy – Potter intercepts the ball, he passes – Weasley – Spinnet – Johnson – Weasley – SCORES! 1 – 0 for Gryffindor!"

"Go, guys!" Ginny yelled beside me, a happy grin on her face as she leant forward, her hands on the handrail.

I had to admit, we had never played so well before: we scored three more goals in the next twenty minutes, bringing the score to 4 – 0; the Slytherin's patch was utterly silent, and their players seemed to be losing control completely.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy yelled as his teammates ran around without coordination. "We need to score! Get the ball!"

"Wish it was that easy!" yelled Pansy Parkinson, a bulky seventh-year with a face like a pug. "They seemed to have enchanted the ball, it's practically glued to their feet!"

"And Potter scores again! 5 – 0 for Gryffindor! Seems that Slytherin's team is not at its best today, Gryffindors have total control of the game! Weasley has the ball – Spinnet – Bell – Spinnet again – Weasley – FOUL! FOUL!" Lee screamed suddenly as Malfoy collided heavily with Gorge (at least, I thought it was George), tackling him to the ground. Madam Hooch whistled, and Malfoy got back on his feet, his sneer evident even from the distance.

"Sorry, I tripped!" he said in the most unconvincing tone I had ever heard. Madam Hooch gave a penalty to Gryffindor, but Angelina was so angry that she missed the door, sending the ball right into Slytherin's keeper's hands.

From that on, things started to get worse.

Slytherins started to snatch the ball in every way possible, kicking, punching and elbowing everyone in their way; I had never seen a dirtier game before. The score, though, didn't change: as much as the players could force their way to our door, Ron was always there to block the ball, not missing a single one.

The thing, of course, started to get onto their nerves; but they couldn't injure the keeper, could they?

At the fourty-fifth minute Madam Hooch called a time out for the players to rest for a few minutes, and Gryffindors dragged themselves onto a long bench on the side of the pitch, rubbing bruises and cuts; I had never seen our players looking so beaten up, it was as though they had just taken part in a massive fight. Angelina had a large bruise on her leg where Millicent Bulstrode kicked her; Katie's nose was bleeding, and Fred's lip was split where Goyle had elbowed him in the face. More than players of a school football team, they resembled an army squad returning from the battlefield.

When Madam Hooch called them back onto the pitch, Gryffindor team walked back onto the grass, and I saw with the corner of my eye Malfoy signalling something to Tiger, who was standing by the other side of the pitch. What the heck was he thinking to do?

Malfoy suddenly burst into a run toward the Gryffindors from one direction, Tiger from the other; for a moment I thought they wanted to hurt Harry, but then I understood who was their real target. Everyone jumped out of the way, but he wasn't fast enough; the two boys collided with Ron from both sides, tackling him down, and they all crumpled to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

I jumped on my feet with a choice word I had never said in front of Emma before; outraged yells burst out from every single watcher – teachers included.

"You filthy, cheating scum! You ba –" Lee was yelling; Professor McGonagall, who usually restrained him when his comments became too coloured, didn't even hear him, for she was too busy yelling at Malfoy and his companion, waving her fist toward the two Slytherins.

"Never!" Madam Hooch bellowed, forcing Malfoy and Tiger on their feet seizing them by their ears. "Never, in all the years I have refereed football matches, I have seen such an unfair behaviour! You are a shame for the school, using such violence against another player! Suspended! Your whole team will be excluded from the rest of the matches from the Cup as a punishment! And a hundred points from Slytherin, each!"

The Slytherins booed and whistled, but their disapproval was swallowed by our rage, which, I was sure, could be heard till downtown.

Madam Pomfrey, meanwhile, had gotten on her feet and hurried on the pitch, where Ron was still sitting on the ground, holding his left arm; the old matron shooed the rest of the team, who was crowded around Ron, and crouched down. She said something I couldn't make out, and then she helped Ron up, walking him off the pitch, towards the castle.

"How's him?" I yelled at Harry, who was walking towards the bench right under the terraces.

He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, looking angry and worried; his clothes had green stains of grass on them, and his glasses were slightly askew on his face.

"Broken arm!" he yelled as the rest of the team gathered around him. "He will be out for the rest of the season; Madam Pomfrey is taking him up to the castle, to the infirmary!"

Ginny and I exchanged a worried look, and a moment later we were climbing down the terraces, Emma following us closely, holding onto my sweatshirt to keep up.

We ran up the hill, following the path Ron and the matron had taken only a few minutes later, and we found the castle doors open; we slipped inside and hurried to the infirmary, dragging an awestruck Emma with us – she had never seen the inside of the castle before, and she was utterly amazed by it.

We skidded to a halt right in the infirmary, all three of us with short breath from the long run, and Madam Pomfrey smiled at us; she was sitting by Ron on one of the cots, and she was carefully proceeding in seizing a plaster around his arm. He was pale, and by the look on his face it was obvious that he was in pain, but he didn't let out a sound as the matron worked on his arm.

"That filthy bastard! Oh, he'd better not to cross my way in school on Monday, or I swear, I'll reduce him in such small pieces they will have to put him in a match box!" Ginny shrieked, her cheeks as red as her hair, as she plopped down on the other cot. I followed her closely, Emma always tucked in my side, and sat down too, shaking my head.

"I didn't think he would have gotten to this. I bet he did it for vengeance, to pay you back from humiliating him the other day," I muttered, reaching out instinctively to push a lock of hair from his brow. He smiled, shrugging and then grimacing in pain as the movement sent more pain to his arm.

"They were losing, and he didn't want to. He's too proud to be defeated in front of Mommy and Daddy – haven't you seen them? They were sitting among the Slytherins; I bet Malfoy wanted to impress them. Dad once told me that Lucius Malfoy used to cheat like that in everything, to show that he was better than the others because of his lineage." He spat the last word like it was an insult, and Ginny snorted loudly, looking out of the window, from where the pitch was visible in the distance.

"I will give him lineage," she hissed, folding her arms over her chest; she looked so angry I was sure she was about to emit smoke from her ears. "I want to see what he will do of his pureblood-ness once I will have thrown him down the Astronomic Geography Tower; as much as I'm concerned, he can put it into his – "

"Ginny, please, not in front of Emma!" I pleaded, lunging forward and pressing a hand to her mouth before she could finish her sentence; I didn't want my five-year-old sister to hear such things.

We exchanged a look, and then we started to laugh uncontrollably; the situation was too comical to be ignored.

"That will do, Mr Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said then, patting Ron's arm, which was now enclosed in a thick white plaster. Apparently, Madam Pomfrey had the stocking of a hospital ER; I had never seen such an equipped infirmary in a school, but, after all, I had never been to Hogwarts before.

"Five weeks, and you can come back to me to remove it. I'm sorry, but that will mean no football until then, and for the following few weeks; I fear your teammates will have to make do without you for the rest of the season."

Ron made a face and sighed, shaking his head. "It's no big deal for the team; we have only two matches left, against Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff; Harry will be able to get the Cup anyway."

The matron smiled and got to her feet, taking away the basin of water and plaster powder; I noticed that she still had the Gryffindor scarf around her neck, and I smiled remembering the detention report I had found a few weeks before as Ron and I worked in Snape's archive, the one about her, Madam Malkin and my aunt starting a huge fight with the Slytherins in the corridors.

"Thank you, Madam," Ron said, getting to his feet. "I promise you won't see me around the infirmary for a few weeks, I think I have had enough of injuries for now."

Madam Pomfrey scowled at him, wiping her hands on a white towel. "I can well believe it! Between you, Mr Potter and Miss Granger, my infirmary is always crowded! Now go, go!" she said, pushing us all out and closing the wooden door behind her.

We walked down the hill in no hurry, joking and planning not-so-serious ways to get our revenge over Malfoy.

"They have already been punished," Ron said with a shrug as we walked back into the still crowded pitch. "They have been excluded from the Football Cup for the rest of the year, and the two hundred points Madam Hooch took from them place them last in the classification for the House Cup. They will lose both of the leagues this year; I think it's enough. And then, there's the humiliation of being dragged away by the ears in front of the whole school." He smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "That was priceless."

Just then someone jumped out in front of us; a girl with thick, curly dark hair and almond-shaped green eyes – the Ravenclaw sixth-year who always shot me venomous glares when she saw Ron and I together.

"Ron, how are you?" she asked, widening her eyes and stepping forward, a hand outstretched towards him.

Ron took a step back, and I felt his arm tightening a bit around my waist.

"I'm ok, Haley, thank you," he said, sounding careful and measured.

The girl's eyes flicked from Ron to me, and then she started talking again at top-speed, as though I wasn't there. "I saw the Slytherins tackling you down, and oh my God, I was scared! When Madam Pomfrey took you away people started to make several hypothesis, someone said you had broken ribs, others that they were carrying you to the hospital – "

"Thank you for the interest, but I'm fine, thanks; my arm will be fixed soon. Now, if you excuse us, we have things to do," Ron said, interrupting her and then walking away, dragging Emma, Ginny and I with him.

The girl stayed there, standing on the grass and glowering at me; I glowered back, knowing way too well where her interest for Ron's conditions came from. I had never been the jealous type before, but seeing that girl fawning over Ron made my blood boil.

"Who was she?" I asked as innocently as I could, looking down and ruffling Emma's hair. To my surprise, Ginny laughed loudly, pointing at the girl behind us with her thumb.

"She's Hadley Greene," she said, as though it was the most amusing thing in the world. "She's in my year, and she's a pain; she pestered Ron for months last year: she followed him around everywhere, waited for him in front of classroom doors, sneaked in the pitch to watch football practice – unbearable, always 'Oh, Ron, you're so great!' 'Oh, Ron, I was looking for you!' 'Can I lick your shoes, Ron?'."

She shook her head, sniggering.

"It took the combined effort of Harry, the Twins, Lee Jordan and I to get rid of her – and she still doesn't give up completely! She's totally nuts; at some point Ron started to hide in the library during lunch break to avoid her; he even ditched classes when he saw her in front of the classroom!"

I laughed too; it was impossible not to. That girl really had issues.

"Well, I'll go and tell Mom you're ok," Ginny said lightly, patting Ron's shoulder. "I bet she's freaking out a bit by now. See you later, ok? Come on, Emma, I'll take you back to your Aunt."

Emma smiled, taking her hand, and the two of them walked away quickly, disappearing in the crowd still sitting on the terraces.

"How come have you asked who she was?" Ron asked me, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I shrugged, feeling suddenly very interested in an ant climbing on my trainers.

"Just curious. I had seen her around several times before, and I wanted to know," I answered as vaguely as possible.

He pulled me closer, lifting my chin with his good hand to look me in the eye.

"You are not, by any chance, jealous, are you?" he asked, his eyes bright; I shook my head, blushing, but he held my gaze, and I sighed, unable to look down.

"Fine," I said, leaning on my tiptoes to kiss him lightly on his lips. "Maybe a bit."

He grinned, kissing the tip of my nose.

"You don't have to worry about this, you know," he said softly, with an earnest look in his eyes. "Apart from the fact that she's crazy, she has one more huge flaw I can't step over."

I looked at him questioningly, and he smiled, resting his forehead against mine.

"She's not you."

So, there it was. Loved it? Hated it? Let me know! By the way, I got loads of reviews for last chapter, thank you to all the reviewers, I loved the comments!

Next update on next weekend (or on Monday, knowing I always am a bit late): Spring break and Lavender's visit coming!