Chapter Three

Blurs of gold and red whipped past Harry as he flew across the Quidditch pitch, eyes darting in every direction as he attempted to spot a flutter of gold wings within the flurry of movement. It was their first practice session of the season, and as Captain, Harry decided they needed some high intensity training to whip them back into shape. He had split them up into two teams so they could play a mock game against each other. Harry had chosen Ginny to go up against him as Seeker, considering she had reasonable experience with the position, and they were currently locked in a race to see who could catch the snitch first.

Despite their history together, there was no awkwardness between the two of them. If anything, they were better friends now than they had been before. They were able to engage in friendly competition without any negative feelings towards one another. In fact, whenever Ginny flew past him, she would shoot him a grin that clearly meant she was enjoying challenging him.

Swerving around Dean Thomas and ducking under Demelza Robins, Harry pulled ahead of Ginny, his Quidditch robes flapping in the wind from the speed he was flying at. His hands gripped the handle of his broom tightly as he pulled himself upward, raising higher into the sky so he could get a better vantage point. He stopped mid-air, eyes darting around the Quidditch pitch.

That was when he saw it. A faint glimmer of gold hovering just above the goal posts. He immediately took off, his heart thumping with adrenaline. He knew Ginny must have spotted it too, because she was tailing right behind him. Still, he managed to keep the lead in the chase for the Snitch, and he stretched his arm out, preparing to grab it as soon as he got close enough. However, a large figure flew right in front of him before he could, causing him to yell out in fright as images of Death Eaters flashed through his mind. Looping backwards on his broom to avoid collision, Harry tried to calm his frantically beating heart as he looked around the field.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ginny asked with concern as she stopped right next to him.

Harry soon came to the realization that the 'Death Eater' had only been Jimmy Peakes knocking back a bludger. Swallowing hard and feeling foolish, he nodded his head at Ginny, trying to give a reassuring smile. Judging by the continued expression of worry on her face, he had failed miserably. "Yeah, sorry, just got startled that's all."

She raised her brows slightly at him and Harry could tell that she suspected he wasn't being entirely truthful. Fortunately, she did not pry any further and Harry was given a moment to assess his team. Ron was hovering near the goal posts, looking directly at Harry and mouthing the words 'are you okay?' at him. Harry nodded and lifted his hand to wave at him, but a terrible throbbing pain suddenly shot through his shoulder and traveled the length of his collar bone. Wincing and choking back a sound of pain, Harry hunched forward on his broom and grabbed hold of it tightly, breathing hard.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Ginny asked again, not missing the obvious pain he was in.

"Yeah just-ah!" Harry let out a strangled cry as his collar bone gave another harsh throb. Hand flying up to his shoulder, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and nearly slumped right off his broom. Steadying himself, he focused on the task of getting to the ground, not wanting to risk taking a fall at this height.

"Harry! What's going on?" Ron called to him as he sped over.

"I dunno, my shoulder is really hurting, I need to get to the ground," Harry said, his voice a bit thick and strained from the effort of talking through the pain. Ginny and Ron both flanked Harry's sides as they made for the ground, preparing to catch him should he slide off his broom in either direction. Fortunately, no such incident occurred.

When his feet touched the ground, Harry dropped his broom and nearly took a tumble right along with it. Ron was there to steady him, though, placing a hand on his arm. It took everything Harry had to keep from crying out as the pain in his clavicle got worse. He could only describe it as a stabbing, burning ache that traveled through his bones. It was a feeling he'd definitely list in the top ten worst pains he'd ever experienced.

"We should get you to Madam Pomfrey," Ginny said, grabbing hold of Harry's other arm gently. Harry, who had been distracted by his shoulder, tensed slightly from the touch and instinctively jerked away, his demeanor immediately on the defensive. Ginny snapped her hand back, her eyes widening a bit in surprise at his reaction. He felt very stupid, just then. Why did he keep thinking everything around him was going to hurt him? He was acting irrational and it wouldn't be long before everyone thought he was some kind of lunatic.

"No, I'm alright, I think I just pulled a muscle, it'll be fine," Harry said quickly, leaving out the fact that it felt more like his bones were hurting, not his muscles. They did not need to know those details, though, so he remained firm with his stance on the matter. He'd rather get his arm ripped off than suffer through another visit to the hospital wing. It was only a short while later that the rest of the team joined them on the ground, a lot of them appearing a bit confused as to what was going on.

Harry knew he needed to divert the situation before any more people started asking him questions.

"Alright, good job out there, everyone. That's it for today's practice, we'll pick up again in a couple of days," Harry informed them, leaning over to grab up his broom. Not waiting for a reply, and trying not to make obvious that he was in a hurry, Harry began walking across the grounds. When he was finally out of sight, he stumbled against a wall and stuffed his fist into his mouth, biting into his knuckles to stifle the cry of pain he nearly let out. He was sure that his teeth had torn his knuckles apart by the time the pain passed into a dull, but bearable throb.

Releasing a shaky breath, Harry wiped away some sweat that had gathered on his forehead. With his hand on his shoulder again, he began lightly rubbing the aching area, his mind running with a singular question.

'What is going on?'

xxxxx

"I don't even know why we're bothering with NEWT courses anyway," Ron groaned as he slouched over the enormous stack of books and parchment on the table. "We defeated You-Know-Who! We could get any job we wanted!"

"That's no excuse to slack off," Hermione replied, her eyes never leaving her textbook and her quill zipping across a piece of parchment at the speed of light. Harry had spent a good portion of his time trying follow its movements, but even his Seeker trained eyes could not keep up with it.

"Considering there aren't many people who could make that claim, I think it's a pretty darn good excuse," Ron pointed out. He was still bemoaning the fact that they'd been holed up in the library for literally hours revising. Hermione made sure neither of the boys even so much as thought of leaving, all the while reminding them about NEWTs and 'academic responsibility.'

"So, what, are you going to walk into the Ministry one day and just say 'Hi, I helped defeat You-Know-Who. I'd like a job as an auror please,'?" Hermione arched a brow, finally looking up at Ron.

"Sounds pretty good to me, don't you think, Harry?"

Harry had spent pretty much the whole time in the library drawing random doodles on his parchment instead of doing any actual work. He was just adding a few last touches to a drawing of a dragon when Ron spoke to him, making Harry look up.

"If it works for you, go for it, mate," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders and smiling in amusement. "I'd personally rather not bring any more attention to the whole Voldemort thing. I get enough as it is."

"See, Harry has a good head on his shoulder," Hermione waved her quill feather at Ron pointedly. "He isn't going to ride through life on his fame. He's going to work hard, isn't that right, Harry?"

"Er," Harry started, his eyes turning down to the parchment that SHOULD have an essay on it, but instead was covered corner to corner with doodles. He coughed as he tried to shuffle it away under another stack of parchments so Hermione wouldn't see it. "Yeah, right, definitely."

His efforts were in vain, though, because Hermione reached over and grabbed the parchment right out from under him. "Oh, honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do with you tw—is that supposed to be me?"

Ron snatched the parchment from Hermione next and burst out laughing the instant he looked at it. One of the drawings was a very, very amateur stick figure with a head about three times too large, a strangely proportioned body, and very bushy hair. It was also carrying a book.

"There's no mistaking it, 'Mione, that's definitely you," Ron said, wiping away a couple tears of laughter. "You have a true talent, Harry."

Hermione just crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, glaring at Ron. "Go ahead, laugh it up, Ronald. It's obvious you didn't notice that Harry drew you as well."

Ron glanced down at the parchment again and his eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Argh! Harry, my nose is NOT that big."

Hermione made a noise that sounded like a choked laugh, but she attempted to keep her face straight. "I dunno, Ron. It looks on scale to me."

"No way! He didn't even capture my chiseled jawline or devilishly handsome face correctly," Ron said before turning to Harry and pointing at him accusingly. "See what you and your art has caused!"

Harry just held up his hands, trying his best to look innocent. "Don't know what you're talking about, mate."

Ron sighed and tossed the drawing over his shoulder, seemingly already over it. "Well, now we know Harry can't draw to save his life."

"Or write an essay," Hermione added in.

"Ouch, that stung," Harry said, but he was laughing. His laughter was cut short, however, when a loud bang caused him to jump and whirl around in his chair, now on high alert. He relaxed when he saw that it was just a fourth year Hufflepuff who'd accidentally dropped a large tome onto the ground.

Turning back around, he saw that both Ron and Hermione were currently trying to appear as if they hadn't seen that. After so many months of it, they were becoming used to Harry's jumpy behavior, and also knew quite well that he did not like anyone bringing attention to it.

"So, are you still going to try to be an auror, Harry?" Hermione asked after a lapse of silence. She seemed to opt for backtracking to their earlier conversation in order to break the awkwardness of the moment.

A 'yes' sat at the tip of his tongue, but something made Harry pause and hold it back. Now that he was thinking about it, he really wasn't sure what he wanted to be. For the past seven years, he had lived his life based on the knowledge that he could be killed at any given moment. Everything he'd done had revolved around that one fact. He honestly hadn't expected to make it to seventeen, let alone adulthood. Now that those fears were no longer a weight on his future, he was free to pursue anything he wanted. He could be anyone, not just the Boy-Who-Lived or the Chosen One.

"I'm not sure," he decided to settle with. Here he was with the opportunity to shed his past identities and begin anew, yet he was hesitating. He found he was doing that a lot lately, stopping before he even got started. It was partially due to the fact he was still wrestling with the idea that he wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place. How many times could a single person cheat death before it started to feel like a joke? In all honesty, he probably should have died in that battle and he was now taking up a space in life that didn't even belong to him.

'Why is that life made more sense when Voldemort was around?''

"Well, I'm sure if you earn enough NEWTs, you can get into pretty much any career you wanted," Hermione assured him, seeming to understand that Harry wasn't in a place for making big decisions just yet. "The fact that you're Harry Potter doesn't hurt, either."

"Oy! That's what I said," Ron huffed, flicking a piece of crumpled up parchment off the table in annoyance. "I can never be right even when I'm right, can I?"

"Nope," Hermione grinned.

Ron just blinked at her before laughing. "Now I remember why I like you."

"So, then, remind me again why I like you?" Hermione responded with a playful grin.

"Because you like kissing me," Ron answered and as if to emphasize this point, he kissed her.

Harry averted his eyes, taking a sudden interest in the corner of the ceiling. He never knew what was the proper thing to do when your best friends started kissing right in front of you. He couldn't imagine a situation where that wasn't just plain awkward and uncomfortable. Fortunately, Ron and Hermione left it to a quick peck, and Harry was saved the embarrassment of witnessing a snog session.

The three of them fell into another stretch of silence as they went back to their studying. Well, Hermione did. Ron seemed more focused on making paper airplanes out of parchment and Harry was absently flipping through his DADA textbook. Despite it being his favorite subject, he could not will himself to even feign interest in the words printed on the pages. He'd never been what one would call a 'great' student in the first place, but it seemed like his mind was more absent than usual that year. He supposed, in a way, he was battling with a 'what's the point?' mentality over schooling. He'd never say that to Hermione, of course, because she'd probably give him a ten foot long list of exactly what 'the point' was.

"Brilliant," Hermione sighed in frustration, causing Harry to look over to her. "I forgot my notes from the last Transfiguration lecture. Harry, could I borrow yours?"

"Sure, Hermione," Harry said. He leaned over to his bag on the floor and opened it up, digging around until he found the correct notes. They were a bit rumpled from being shoved carelessly into his bag, and his handwriting was barely legible, but Hermione would just have to make due. Sitting up straight, Harry handed them across the table to her. "Here you go."

However, Hermione did not take them from him, instead she was staring at him and blinking. This left Harry feeling confused and a little self conscious.

"What?" he asked.

"Your nose is bleeding, Harry," Hermione replied, gesturing towards his face.

It was then that Harry took notice of that fact that several blots of blood were dripping onto his book and seeping into the pages. Quickly bringing his hand up to his nose, he began wiping at it. When he pulled it back, he saw that the side of his hand was smeared in bright, red blood.

Transfiguring a piece of parchment into a handkerchief, Hermione handed it to him. "Here, use this."

"Thanks," Harry said, taking it from her and pressing it against his nose to staunch the stream of blood. He was starting to feel a bit dizzy just then, and he wondered if it was possible for nosebleeds to cause such severe lightheadedness.

"That was the most random nosebleed I've ever seen," Ron said, appearing kind of in awe. "One second, you were fine, then the next it was like, GOOSH."

"Yes, thank you for that detailed retailing of Harry's nosebleed, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. Harry just snickered from behind his handkerchief.

"Has it stopped yet?" Hermione now turned back to him. Harry pulled the cloth away from his face and saw that a good portion of it was now covered in his blood. Sniffing a bit, he wiped at his nose a couple more times to check for fresh blood.

"I think so," he replied when he saw none, rubbing at his nose some more.

"Perhaps you should go wash your face, then," Hermione suggested. "You've got blood smeared all over it."

Flushing a little, Harry covered the lower part of his face with his hand and nodded in agreement. Pushing his chair back, he got up and hurried out of the library as fast as he could without catching anyone's attention. Once he got to the bathroom, he went over to one of the sinks and turned on the tap. Sticking his hands under the stream of water, Harry finally glanced up at the mirror and was a bit surprised to see how pale he looked. The blood all over his face was eerily contrast against the almost deathly pallor of his skin.

Taking off his glasses, he leaned over and tarted splashing water onto his face, rubbing at it aggressively to clear off the blood. When he brought his head back up, his reflection was now soaking wet, water dripping from his hair and rolling down his face in rivulets. The important thing, though, was that he'd successfully cleaned off all of the blood.

Pressing his glasses back on, Harry was about to leave when a wave of dizziness hit him again. It came on so suddenly and intensely that Harry could no longer distinguish which way was up and which way was down. Gripping onto the sink to keep himself from falling, he leaned all of his weight against it and tried to focus on breathing until the dizzy spell passed. He couldn't even close his eyes because all it did was make him feel like he was spinning. When the sensation finally subsided, he was left feeling shaky and weak.

At first, he wasn't sure if he would be able to make it back to the library in his current state. The way his mind kept fading in out and out of darkness made Harry afraid to let go of the sink in fear of falling over and passing out. However, after adamantly deciding he did not want to have to be rescued from the bathroom of all places, he willed himself to start walking.

The walk back to the library was slow going, seeing as his legs were tired and shaky and his vision kept turning dark on him at random intervals. He didn't know how many times he had to stop and take a break, but to Harry it felt like it must have been every couple of minutes. When he finally made it to the table Ron and Hermione were at, he just sunk down into his chair with relief.

"Did you try to drown yourself in the sink?" Ron asked, eyeing Harry's soppy hair and damp uniform with curiosity. He probably looked like he just dunked his whole head into a sink full of water.

"Something like that," Harry laughed. Turning to Hermione now, he saw that she was quiet and studying him rather sagaciously. This made Harry's stomach sink because he recognized that look quite well. It meant that she knew something was up and she was trying to figure out what it was. Though Harry felt it was nothing serious, he knew if Hermione were to find out that he was not feeling well again, she would most likely worry unnecessarily. He really hated when people worried about him. To him, it was no different than all of the attention given to him as the world's savior.

"Are you feeling better?" Hermione asked him after awhile. Harry was trembling uncontrollably, his collar bone was throbbing again and his head was swimming from nausea and fatigue. Yet, he still smiled.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Hermione."