The crack of the bludger bat echoed through the field as Ron smacked it at high velocity toward their Chaser Demelza Robins. Even from the distance, Harry could see Ron's face pale a little as he realized he had hit the bludger much too hard for a practice game.
"Fuck." Harry muttered quietly as the wind whipped by him as he dived, trying to cut the bludger off that was barreling towards Demelza's back. Her entire focus was on the quidditch goal in front of her and the keeper guarding it.
"Dem!" Ginny's yell drew her attention in the wrong direction as she looked away from the bludger still coming at her.
Harry's angle of descent was going to plant him squarely between the bludger and Demelza—if he got there in time. He focused on the speeding bludger, the distance closing, and shifted the bludger bat from his right to left hand because even though it wasn't his dominant hand, he'd have a better angle to swing with his left.
Time slowed to a crawl, the other players' yells fading, and he only heard the wind whistling by his ear in a high-pitched whine. Harry swung his left arm with all his strength, the bludger hitting the tip of the bat, sending a shockwave up his arm. A splinter of wood broke off the bat as it made contact, and he felt it cut his cheek as it rushed by.
Ron and Ginny were coming towards him, but he waved them off. No need to interrupt practice for an accident that hadn't happened. They already had enough interruptions with the accidents they didn't prevent during practice.
The rest of the practice went smoothly, with no more close calls, and the sun was setting as Harry trudged back to the head dorms. He still had the cut on his cheek that he hadn't bothered to heal, even though it stung. Quidditch practice had been satisfyingly rough this evening, and he felt a pleasant burn in his muscles, and his head for once was quiet and not jammed with random bothersome thoughts.
The setting sun warmed the back of his neck as he trudged back towards Hogwarts alone. Harry had stayed behind as everyone else on the team headed back to do a more thorough inspection of the team brooms in advance of their upcoming match. His quidditch uniform felt slightly damp from sweat but a cool late afternoon breeze kept him from being uncomfortable.
Harry's gaze was focused downward watching his feet. One foot in front of the other, keep moving, he thought to himself. Get to the head dorms, smile at Hermione, and make brief small talk before heading into his rooms. Another normal day checked off.
"Your feelings for Miss Granger seem to be intense." Healer Purvis made the statement blandly, but the insinuation pricked at Harry.
Even he could tell he responded too vehemently to the Healers simple statement. "She's my best friend. We went through a bloody war together. Of course—of course — I care for her—as a friend."
Prior to therapy if someone had asked Harry how the war had affected him, his answer would have been about the witches and wizards who had given their lives to fight. It wouldn't have been about him . When he tried to answer that question, he thought of George's face as he carried the mirrors out of the Burrow, smashing them to bits in the front yard. Harry thought of watching Teddy innocently holding his bottle not yet understanding how much he had already lost with his parents death. Harry repeatedly promised himself he would do whatever it took for Teddy not to feel as lonely as he had felt growing up.
Faced with the pain of those thoughts, it was difficult for Harry to acknowledge his own problems. It felt shameful to admit his own challenges in the face of their loss. He got confused sometimes, so what? He got angry sometimes and reacted without thinking- so what?
In the few months, Harry had been back at Hogwarts, though, he had watched those around him who he knew had been deeply affected by the war. It was easier to focus on others rather than himself and he had observed the behavior of those more involved in the war versus those who the war left untouched.
His wartime cohorts were more driven and missing the brakes they needed. This was more and more evident to him watching quidditch practices, he had no Oliver Woods on the team. Their intensity stemmed not from love of the game, but from deeper more troublesome thoughts and motivations. Harry loved quidditch, but he couldn't deny that the thrill he got from some of the risky maneuvers on his broom was more about having a distraction from his thoughts than anything else. Harry had to listen to his youngest team members and moderate his game strategies. Gryffindor was going to win the Quidditch Cup, but their team wouldn't achieve that by breaking their players' bones–not under his watch.
A familiar sixth-year Slytherin witch ran up the path to Harry, but he couldn't quite remember her name. Her dark brown eyes were wide and frightened. He stopped waiting for her to speak, but she opened her mouth and nothing came out. When it became obvious she wasn't going to start speaking, Harry took a deep breath and reined in his impatience to get back to Hermione. He forced himself to speak gently and calmly. "Hello, my name is Harry Potter. How can I help you?"
She started wringing her hands and jumped when he spoke. "I-I-I-"
Harry wondered where that useless git Malfoy was if a member of his house was coming to Harry for assistance. She kept glancing behind her further up the path toward Hogwarts. "You can show me if that's easier."
She gulped and nodded, taking off a sprint back towards Hogwarts. They were still quite a bit away when Harry saw a large crowd near the entrance to the middle courtyard. He sped up and ran past the dark-haired witch, outpacing her as he heard the yells.
The crowd formed a wide circle that was mainly Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, with a few Slytherins and Hufflepuff students mixed in. Harry shoved his way through the tightly packed students until he saw the center. Malfoy was on his hands and knees in the middle of the ring of students, his face half covered in welts. Dean Thomas and Dennis Creevey stood in front of Malfoy their wands pointing at the fallen wizard. Luna and Daphne were being held back by members of the crowd, both witches were trying to get free as they yelled at Thomas and Creevey to stop.
"What the bloody hell is goin' on here?" Harry roared and everyone froze, looking at him.
Dean Thomas was the first to shake the momentary shock off, responding with a sneer at Malfoy on the ground. "This git got in my way."
Luna managed to throw off the arms holding her during the distraction and went to kneel by Malfoy still on his hands and knees, whispering something to him.
"He hit him in the back with some jinx." Daphne looked towards Harry, her face pale, students from the crowd still holding her back.
For a second, the selfishly satisfying thought of walking away floated through Harry's head. Did he really have to rescue Malfoy? But even as that thought floated through his head, he was already moving forward, the crowd parting for him.
"Hands off Daphne." He pointed to the surrounding crowd, who immediately backed up, his voice was loud and authoritative as he continued. "Everyone in this crowd for contributing to delinquency and not obeying the prefects in charge has detention for one week. If you placed your hands on either Luna or Daphne, you have detention for two weeks. If I find out you didn't do your required detention, I will have a personal talk with you. You don't want this talk to happen." The icy threat that laced his voice made sure no one in the crowd wanted a personal talking-to from Harry Potter, and the crowd thinned to almost nothing as students scattered.
The witch that had run to get him rushed over to Daphne and hugged her. Harry noticed the resemblance between the two and recalled Daphne's little sister had also been sorted into Slytherin. Astoria Greengrass. No wonder she had been familiar.
Dean Thomas and Dennis Creevey hadn't moved from where they stood facing Malfoy, now with Luna beside him. Dean gave Harry a disgusted look. "Really, you're going to give everyone detention on behalf of this rubbish?"
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, the relaxation he got from playing quidditch completely obliterated. "The war is over, Dean."
"He helped kill my brother—he helped them." Dennis Creevey said in a quavering voice.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Harry opened his mouth, not knowing what the hell he was going to say to that when Malfoy spoke up. "I'm sorry."
They stopped and looked at Malfoy, astonished to hear him apologize and he seemed to realize it repeating the words again, louder for the group of them. "I'm sorry."
Luna helped Malfoy stand, and he kept his gaze downward as he repeated his apology for the third time. "I'm sorry."
"Tell that to my brother." A tear slid down Dennis's face and he wiped it away angrily, his wand lowering.
"He will." Harry turned to see Ron approaching, his eyes on Malfoy. Ron didn't stop until he was on the other side of Malfoy and Luna.
"Ron-" Harry began, not wanting this thing to spiral further out of control, but Ron cut him off.
The tips of Ron's ears and his face were slightly red, a sure sign he had lost his temper. However, he remained in control of himself, his voice even and cool. Ron faced Malfoy near Daphne and Astoria as he spoke, "Everybody dies, and when you do, Malfoy, I enjoy thinking of what you're going to face."
Dean laughed at that, and spit at Malfoy's feet. "Fucking wanker." He reached out, slinging an arm around Dennis' neck, pulling him around, and flipping Malfoy the finger as they walked off.
"Detention for a month! Thomas! Creevey!" Harry yelled out as they walked away.
Dean waved without turning around. "Worth it."
Ron went over to Daphne and Astoria, talking to them quietly, before glancing at Harry. "I'll walk Daphne and Tori to their common room while you finish up whatever it is here." Then Ron walked away with the two sisters. Leaving only Luna, Malfoy, and Harry remaining standing near the entrance.
The prefect badge hung slightly askew on Malfoy's dirty, battered robes. Luna waved her wand, cleaning him up as Malfoy stood silently, still staring at the ground.
Despite their history and his own impulse to leave Malfoy initially, Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Luna hooked her arm in Malfoy's before glancing back at Harry. "Thanks, Harry."
Harry nodded at Luna and watched her lead Malfoy off, leaving him standing alone at the courtyard entrance. A breeze ruffled his hair as he stood there unmoving long after the confrontation ended. He stared at the scuffed marks where Malfoy had been on the ground, wondering at the mixed feelings churning in his gut at his own actions. The shadows on the ground disappeared, and the breeze turned chilly with the darkness.
The pleasant feeling of the ache in his muscles was gone as Harry made his way to the head boy room and instead, he just ached. Rescuing Malfoy didn't sit right with him this time, even though he had done it before in the room of requirement. Harry's thoughts were in a tangle over the incident, the grief on Dennis's face another heavy weight on his soul. He felt old and fucked up despite his age, not knowing what was right—not knowing anything.
Harry stepped into the doorway and Hermione looked up from her schoolwork spread out on a table in front of her with a smile. "Harry! I thought you would be back earlier from practice. I was looking through some of the further reading on runes and I wanted to show you some interesting designs for protection runes."
Hermione stood up quickly, her vanilla scent preceding her and washing over him comfortingly as she came close to where he stood at the doorway. "Do you want a snack? I have some of your favorite sweets."
Her arms wrapped around him and her curls brushed against his chin as she hugged him, still chattering about the runes she was reading about. Hermione was warm against his chilled skin and she moved back before he even got the chance to react properly, to wrap his arms around her.
Her cheeks looked a bit redder as she pulled back, finally meeting his eyes and pausing. "Harry, is everything okay? Did something happen at quidditch practice?"
Harry ignored her questions, asking instead," I'm really tired. Maybe we could go to bed early today?"
Hermione didn't even glance at the homework she had spread out behind her before nodding at him. Harry gave her a brief smile before heading to his room to take a shower and change. When he came back into the common room, Hermione was already in her pajamas and grabbed his hand to lead him over to her room.
Climbing into bed with her felt slightly awkward and absolutely necessary at the same time. Harry wrapped his arms around her, feeling something loosen in his chest as he pulled her close, breathing deep.
"What happened Harry?"
"I had to break up a fight after quidditch practice."
Hermione wiggled in his arms and he reluctantly loosed his hold as she turned around to face him. "What? Why?"
The proximity of her, the softness of her voice, and the darkness made it easier to talk. "Dean Thomas and Dennis Creevey attacked Malfoy, I think. I'm not clear on exactly how it started, but when I got there, they had Malfoy on the ground near the middle courtyard. There was a crowd of other students surrounding them, and some of them were holding Daphne and Luna back from interfering. Daphne's little sister ran to get me."
"You stopped them." Her voice was gently confident in him. More confident than he had been in his own actions.
"Yes, but I—I didn't know if I wanted to stop them."
"What do you mean?"
"I just didn't want it to be me. I wanted it to be someone else—anyone else—to handle it instead." Harry stopped suddenly, realizing he was confessing more than he meant to as his words settled between them.
"When I met Malfoy on the train, I almost attacked him. Luna stopped me." Hermione confessed quietly.
"Malfoy told me he didn't say anything to you on the train. Did he?" Harry's voice was tight.
"No, I just saw him and remembered things. After I calmed down, I thought about it. He became just as pale as I was when he spotted me, too." She paused. "Why were you talking about that with him?"
Harry licked his lips, moving to lie back flat on his back to give himself some time to think. He had gotten himself into a pickle with his question. "It was the first day, and I saw his prefect badge, and I remembered how upset you had been that morning, and I thought he might have said something."
Hermione scooted closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder, her arm around his chest. It was a different position than they had been sleeping in. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For being you. For always stepping up, even when you don't want to."
Harry didn't say anything, but his jaw tightened briefly. He didn't know how to make her understand it wasn't enough. He wasn't enough—not good enough—not fast enough—just always fumbling around after the fact, not knowing what to do.
Her hand slid up his chest, curving to tangle into his hair behind his neck, half embracing him and his thoughts scattered. It seemed impossible to Harry laying there under Hermione's relaxed, warm weight that the two of them had done this so many times during the war. Yet they had slept together numerous times for comfort, absolutely platonically. How had he ignored the way she felt pressed against him? The way her breathing slowed as she fell asleep with complete trust in him?
Harry's hand moved slightly, and the tips of her curls slid caressingly against his skin. As crazy as the thought seemed for him, certain things had been simpler during the war. He had a clear-cut enemy that he had been striving to defeat. Despite the lack of information, Harry still had a definite plan during the war. Now, months after the end of the war with Hermione pressed against him, he had no clue what he was doing anymore.
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Harry gave a chiding look to the two second years who he had caught experimenting with making a hovering bonfire behind the wooden bleachers of the quidditch field. "Really guys? Did your mum not teach you about casting incendio only in fire-appropriate locations?"
He banished the burn salve back to his trunks in his room with a wave of his wand after surveying the rapidly healing burns on their palms. "Next time you two get injured, I'm sending you straight to Madam Pomfrey and you'll have to hear her lecture. For now, it's two days of detention."
The two twelve-year-old Hufflepuffs gave Harry cheerful grins in response. "Thank you, Harry! We'll be more careful in the future. We were just practicing because we want some pet fire salamanders and you know—"
"That they are not allowed as pets at Hogwarts?" Harry cut them off with an eyebrow raised.
The sun glinted on the young wizard's light blond curls, making him look like a cherub. The Hufflepuff gave Harry a charming grin. "Oh. Sorry, Harry."
Harry bit the inside of his lip so he wouldn't grin back at the kid, really he had been this small in second year? The war stretched the six years he had on the two younger wizards into a lifetime. "Uh-huh. Let's just try to follow the rules, okay?"
"Yes, sir!" They both said smartly before running off, whispering to each other cheerfully.
Ron scoffed as he came to stand next to him, watching the Hufflepuffs disappear from sight. "I'm going to have to have a talk with our housemates. This is ridiculous."
"Huh?" Harry looked at him, confused.
"Hufflepuff can't outdo us. We are the house of mischief! We're bloody Gryffindors! A week ago those two managed to plug up the Divination tower with muffins. Our sad lot is going to have to step it up!" Ron said, outraged at the thought that this year's worst troublemakers might be a pair of Hufflepuffs.
"What? What kind of muffins?"
Ron laughed. "I'm going to tell Hermione that's the first thing you asked about it. She was not happy when she caught them. I told her to go easy on them. It was much more pleasant almost being buried alive by blueberry muffins as opposed to goblets."
"Hermione didn't tell me about that."
Silence fell between them as Harry's words lingered for a minute.
Ron shifted slightly on his feet and changed the subject. "That paper about Wolfsbane in potions, I was thinking we could do a study group with Daphne."
"Daphne? Why? Did you ask Hermione already? She probably already has the paper written."
"She's doing something already with Nott and Ginny for Arithmancy."
"What?" Why wasn't Hermione telling him these things? He could have helped her with Arithmancy. Why bother with Nott? "Why would Hermione help him?"
"Interesting," Ron said, and Harry looked over at him, a scowl still on his face.
"What is?"
"I didn't know you felt that way about Hermione."
"Felt what way? You don't have a problem with her helping Nott out?"
Ron shrugged, something mischievous twinkling in his eyes that reminded Harry of his brothers. "I don't have anything in particular against Nott. I guess if Ginny wants to help him out…"
"I was talking about Hermione."
Ron gave a suspicious cough, looking away. "Yeah mate, I know."
"Hermione's my best mate, aside from you." Harry stared at Ron, who was still refusing to look back at him.
Ron shrugged.
"You're acting like a git."
Ron's hand came up and squeezed his lower face, hiding his mouth, and spoke in a muffled tone, "Yeah."
After another minute of looking at Ron's stupid face, Harry gave a disgusted sigh and walked off. "Fine whatever, let me know when we're meeting up."
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Hermione rushed into the library fifteen minutes late for her study group with Ginny and Theo. The sight that met her eyes as she turned the corner to the study tables made her stop so quickly that her braid bounced against her back.
At her table sat Harry, Ron, and Daphne Greengrass, bent over some parchment, whispering quietly. Daphne was sitting in the middle and her long perfectly straight blond hair was thrown over her shoulder as she leaned towards Harry, pointing at his parchment.
Hermione didn't know how long she remained frozen, watching as Harry turned toward Daphne, telling her something — their faces less than six inches apart. Did they have to sit so close? Hermione disregarded the fact that she frequently squeezed between Harry and Ron during the study sessions. It was easier than leaning over the table or passing parchments across when she wanted to explain something.
"Hermione," Theo called out while trying to keep his voice low, waving her over to where he sat, across from Ginny.
Theo's loud whisper caused everyone to look at Hermione awkwardly standing there. Somehow she managed to make herself smile and wave like everything was normal. Like she wasn't so jealous of Daphne being close to her friends that it made her stomach hurt.
Theo pulled out the chair next to him for her and she sat down without thinking and found herself directly facing Harry. She avoided meeting his eyes as she noted how Harry's and Daphne's robes were touching. Resolutely, she turned towards Theo, trying to focus on homework, her eyes meeting Theo's.
There was a sly look as Theo leaned toward her, his voice soft enough so that Ginny wouldn't hear, "I'm glad he doesn't have a bludger bat right now."
Hermione shook her head at him. Theo didn't know anything. He didn't know her or Harry, their history, why everything was so complicated.
"What are you two talking about?" Ginny asked, her eyes going from Theo to Hermione interestedly.
Theo smiled at Ginny. "The calculation of the influence of the diameter of a ritual circle on the magical power required for a mage-level expungement spell."
Hermione almost laughed at the expression Ginny made staring at Theo as if she couldn't decide whether she was impressed or thought he was insane. "Are you joking?" Ginny finally asked.
Theo shrugged, leaning back, "Well, you know I was trying to protect my pride, but I was asking Hermione if she thought you would say yes to going with me to Slughorn's Christmas party."
Ginny laughed and gave him a wink. "You're going to have to do a better job asking than that." Then she leaned over to pull out her arithmancy books.
Hermione had wondered why Theo had so determinedly hung about her since the school year started. She and Theo got along well enough, but they were both quieter and didn't really need one another's help in their classes except when they were paired for a project. The look Theo gave Ginny, though, as she continued to dig through her book bag, answered that question.
Theo's question hadn't thrown Ginny off at all as she brushed him off and got to studying. Hermione envied Ginny's ease with people and relationships. Hermione had never had that kind of confidence when it came to dealing with guys. The closest she had come had been when she had spent time with Krum. Although the only reason Hermione had managed to be so calm with Krum despite him being handsome and famous was that she hadn't felt that strongly about him.
A finger appeared in her vision, pointing at her calculations. "You're off."
She pushed away Theo's hand. "I'm not off, you're off."
Ginny giggled and Hermione glanced up, intending to look at Ginny, but instead met Harry's gaze from a table over. Ron and Daphne were huddled together over a piece of parchment, but Harry was sitting stiffly, his expression unreadable as he met her gaze.
For a moment, she couldn't look away from him and everyone else seemed to fade away. Was something wrong with her that she had gone from having feelings for one best friend to the other?
Her hand tightened on her quill as she remembered sliding her palm over his chest. Hearing his heartbeat as she fell asleep on top of him. When had that beat changed from being comforting to being necessary? Harry turned towards Daphne, breaking their staring contest, and Hermione realized she had been ignoring both Ginny and Theo. A dull throb started up in her head.
"Hermione, you okay?" Ginny asked.
She just needed to get control of herself. She didn't feel that way toward Harry. Harry didn't feel that way toward her and that was perfectly fine. They were friends. The pain in her head spread as she tried to gather herself and focus.
"Yes, just a bit of a headache." Hermione rubbed her temple, looking down towards her parchment, trying to remember what she had argued about with Theo. An error jumped out at her right in the middle of her calculations, and Hermione huffed as she scratched out the equation, fixing it.
"If you need to go, that's fine. I think me and Ginny got it from here." Theo offered helpfully.
Now that she realized what Theo was up to, he was glaringly obvious in trying to wrangle some alone time with Ginny. Still, her head did hurt. Maybe she'd give in and take the headache potion that she hated relying on.
"Are you sure?" She asked, glancing at Theo and Ginny, who both nodded. "Okay, we can get together again next week if you want to go over the calculations again before it's due."
Hermione didn't glance at where Harry, Ron, and Daphne still sat as she made her way out of the library. She walked swiftly up to her room, tossing her bag on the couch before walking into her room and shrugging off her robes. She had her muggle clothes on underneath, jeans, and a t-shirt and she didn't bother undressing further, just kicking off her shoes and crawling into bed.
A wave of her wand turned the lights off and she pulled her covers over her, breathing slowly, trying to put her thoughts in order. The pressure on her forehead made it hard to fall asleep or relax despite her efforts.
When the bed dipped, it didn't startle her. Hermione waited until Harry lay next to her quietly and then turned and curled on top of his chest.
"How's your head?" He asked quietly.
"It hurts."
"Let me get you medicine for that."
Her fingers curled into his shirt. "I just have to rest a bit."
Harry's hand came up and stroked her hair softly. Her eyes burned, and she curled tighter around him. The thought of him kissing Daphne floated through her head.
"Hermione-"
"Harry-"
They both stopped and then Harry said," You go first."
"Do you like Daphne?" she asked baldly.
"What? Why would you think that?"
That wasn't a no. "Nevermind."
Silence fell for a second before Harry whispered. "I don't like Daphne. Do you like Theo?"
"Of course not."
"He likes you."
Hermione thought of Theo's focus on Ginny. "No, he doesn't."
"Maybe considering everything being too friendly with Slytherins isn't such a good idea," Harry said cautiously into the darkness.
Hermione's hands relaxed on his chest, the tension dissipating from her headache somewhat. "I think that's a good idea."