Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Nine - Slytherin Versus Gryffindor
Harry advised Blaise and Millie about his second lesson with Dumbledore the following morning as they made their way to the Great Hall. He was considering how to tell Hermione about it, as well, only to discover that she was not waiting for him at the Slytherin table. Neville was there, ready to offer his apologies in Hermione's place, and making some excuse about why she had skipped breakfast that day. Harry barely heard what he said. He had just realized that between dodging Slughorn, Katie being cursed, and his anticipation of Dumbledore's lesson, he had never found a gift to offer Hermione.
"Let's face it, Harry. Even if you had bought her a present, I doubt it would've helped much," said Millie with blunt honesty.
He hated to admit it, but Millie was right. Everything had been different since Sirius died and Harry learned of the prophecy. Some paltry gift wasn't going to repair what had been lost.
At the same time, he felt guilty for his behavior to Hermione. He still cared about her, and did not want to risk losing her friendship if they broke up.
"Why don't you try inviting her to Slughorn's Christmas party?" Blaise suggested after Harry voiced a small part of these concerns.
Harry nearly choked on his toast. "What party?"
"Seriously? I told you ages ago! Slughorn's throwing some big dinner for a few students and alumni. Rumor has it he's even invited a vampire... You won't be able to avoid this one, Harry. He explicitly told me to drag you there, if I have to."
"But Hermione's in the Slug Club, already," Harry remarked, "Isn't it a little… I don't know… pathetic to invite her to a party she's already going to?"
Blaise shrugged his shoulders. "Don't ask me. You're the one dating her."
Harry considered his options carefully. On the one hand, it made sense for him to attend a party with his girlfriend. On the other, he still hadn't properly apologized to her, and his invitation might seem cheap, particularly as Hermione was obviously avoiding him.
Instead, Harry turned experimentally toward Millie and asked, "Why don't you come with me? You've never been to one of Slughorn's dinners, have you?"
"No, and I'm not interested," Millie replied stiffly. "Slughorn hasn't seen fit to take notice of me, so I don't see why I should care about him or his little club… No offense, Harry."
"None taken," said Harry with a sigh. He turned back to Blaise and asked, "What about you? Are you planning on inviting anyone?"
Blaise twirled an empty fork between his fingers, looking mildly thoughtful, as if he had just been pondering this same question. With the air of someone caught in a daydream, he asked, "I don't suppose Willoughby would agree to go with me?"
"Nell?" asked Harry, trying very hard to contain his sudden excitement, "I don't see why not. Are you worried she'd say no?"
"I'm not worried," Blaise retorted, in a tone that betrayed the lie, "It's just... We haven't always gotten along, have we?"
"Well, there was that time you threatened to kill her for knocking out one of your teeth," Millie observed dryly.
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Mills, that was so second-year… Wait. She's not still mad about that, is she? Did she say something to you?"
Millie merely shook her head while Harry offered Blaise a few words of encouragement. Of course, he could have revealed Nell's crush immediately, but he then he thought better of it. It wouldn't be wise for him to interfere in the love lives of others when his was in shambles. At any rate, it would be good for Blaise to be in some doubt of a return for his budding affection. Or at the very least, it would be good for his ego.
Deciding to let Blaise devise his own way of asking Nell to the party, Harry turned his attention to other pressing matters. The first Quidditch match of the season was rapidly approaching, and with Katie Bell out of commission, the Gryffindor Quidditch Team had been left in the hands of Ron Weasley. Harry almost felt sorry for Ron, who would have to train up a new Chaser with only a few days left before the match, but it was great luck for the Slytherin team. Snape had been dropping heavy hints that he expected to see a victory for his House, and Harry wasn't about to go easy on the Gryffindors just because he had grown friendly toward a few of their players.
His new team was doing well. Urquhart, though he had initially been trying out for a Chaser position, turned out to be a very capable Keeper. Baddock and Pritchard, elated that Harry had not snubbed them in favor of the seventh years, had thrown themselves into their positions as Beaters with renewed enthusiasm. But by far the stand-out player on the newly formed team was Astoria Greengrass. On solid ground, she had been so meek and quiet that Harry worried she would feel out of place among the much larger, more boisterous boys. But in the air, she revealed competitive streak that left them all speechless. After only a few practices, she grew bold enough to suggest some inventive plays that took advantage of her size and speed.
Of course, Harry had to learn of these plays through Vaisey. Although Astoria was no longer afraid of the other players, she was still intimidated when in the presence of Harry or Draco. He supposed it was to be expected. She was only a first-year, and Harry was her Captain.
"Greengrass," Harry began, landing behind her after dismissing the team from practice, "That was good work today, but you still seem a little frightened by the bludgers…"
"Well, yeah. They'll take my head off if I don't keep an eye out for them," Astoria remarked before she turned and realized who was speaking to her. Her eyes grew wide and her face paled immediately.
Harry, on the other hand, laughed at her candor and replied, "I'm not saying you're wrong for being aware of your surroundings, but it's not enough to just avoid the bludgers. They'll just chase after you if they don't lock onto a new target. You're fast enough to maneuver around the other players. See if you can't get a bludger to tail another Chaser during the match."
Astoria was pressing her lips together so firmly that Harry was sure even a crowbar couldn't pry them apart. She nodded her head vigorously at Harry's suggestion, however, and quickly scampered off to change out of her practice robes. Harry, still chuckling to himself, began making his way toward Hagrid's cabin, intending to relax over some afternoon tea.
He was feeling particularly optimistic about their chances against Gryffindor, until he witnessed something that threatened to upset the dynamic of both teams. Rounding a corner to exit the quidditch pitch, he came face to face with the sight of Draco, locked in a passionate embrace with none other than Ginny Weasley.
He must have uttered an involuntary gasp, for Ginny abruptly jumped away from Draco. A pink blush suffused her freckled cheeks, but there wasn't a hint of shame in her expression as she smiled at Harry.
"Whoops, busted!" she said laughingly before planting a quick kiss on Draco's mortified face. She then tripped lightly away from them both, calling to Harry over her shoulder, "Good luck in the match, Harry!"
Harry stood gaping at her retreating form for several long moments. Then he turned back to Draco, who had hidden his face in his hands.
"Ginny Weasley?" Harry said, his tone implying both a question and an accusation, "Ginny Weasley ?
Draco lifted his distraught face to Harry and pleaded, "You cannot tell Ron!"
But Harry was incapable of saying anything other than "Ginny Weasley?" in a voice of increasing astonishment over and over again.
"Harry, please. Just shut up!" moaned Draco as he began marching back toward the castle, trying to escape.
"But why? How?!" Harry demanded, forgetting all about tea with Hagrid as he increased his pace to keep up with Draco. "How long has this been going on? I mean, my god! We've been living with them all summer!"
"Potter, I have a good thing going with the Weasleys right now. If you do anything to mess this up…"
Harry had sufficiently recovered from his shock to realize something very important. Both Ron and Ginny were on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"Ron doesn't know?" Harry said, recalling the words that had been ripped from Draco when he had first been discovered. "You're snogging his sister, and he doesn't know?"
"Harry, please. I'm begging you. Please don't tell him..."
"Are you crazy? Of course I'm not going to tell him! You think I want to be the one to tell Ron Weasley that his best friend is snogging his sister? But this had better not affect the match! I don't want you going easy on Gryffindor just because you're dating one of the Chasers!"
Harry promised not to say a word to Ron, but that didn't prevent him from mentioning Draco and Ginny's clandestine relationship to Blaise and Millie that same afternoon. The latter accepted the information without much comment, but Blaise found the gossip irresistible.
"Ginny Weasley?" he said to Draco in their dormitory that evening, his accusatory tone a curious mimicry of Harry's reaction earlier that day.
"I already know what you're going to say," said Draco, pulling off his robes as he prepared for bed. "Go ahead and laugh. You think it's ironic that I'd go for red hair and freckles when the same features would have disgusted me before. Fancy boy Draco Malfoy, falling for a Weasley, of all things…"
"Not at all," Blaise interrupted. "Actually, I'm impressed. Ginny's proper fit. I wonder what she sees in you?"
Draco slammed his wardrobe shut and instantly replied, "Do not talk about her like she's a piece of meat, Zabini."
Blaise's eyes widened with wonder, "Woah… You're really serious about her, aren't you?"
Draco made no reply to this last statement. He merely forced Blaise to make the same promise he had already demanded of Harry, then shut himself behind the curtains of his bed the moment Blaise vowed not to say a word about his relationship to Ron. But while Blaise couldn't refrain from expressing his astonishment that Ginny Weasley would ever condescend to date the likes of Draco Malfoy, Harry had more time to consider the situation objectively.
Draco was certainly a different person from the boy who had mocked Ron and his family during their first year. He had become less proud since severing ties with his parents, and in just a few short months, he and Ron, once sworn enemies, became nearly inseparable friends. And since he had spent all of the preceding summer under the same roof as the Weasleys, it seemed only natural that proximity and an open, friendly demeanor had drawn Ginny to him.
If Harry had spent half as much time studying his own relationship as he did Draco's, perhaps he would know how to fix things with Hermione. Instead, when he arrived in the Great Hall the morning of the match, he saw that once again, Neville was waiting by himself at the Slytherin table. Hermione was still noticeably absent.
"Brave of you to wear that today," Blaise remarked as he took a seat, nodding toward Neville's silver and green scarf and matching pointed hat. "I suppose you are a true Gryffindor, after all."
"Ron and Theo made a few comments," said Neville, cringing slightly at the memory, "But of course I'm going to cheer for you, Harry!"
"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked.
"Oh, she went to the library," Neville replied awkwardly, "Said she had some homework to catch up on…"
"I see," said Harry flatly. Neville was not a particularly gifted liar. Hermione was still avoiding him. He knew that he still needed to apologize, but this was his first match as Captain. He thought she would have at least turned up to support him. He tried to reason with himself that her absence was better than hearing her cheer for the opposing team, but he felt the sting of rejection all the same.
His mood was foul as he made his way down to the pitch, but after changing into his quidditch robes and taking note of the bright, crisp morning air, he tried to offer his team some words of encouragement.
"Alright team, conditions are ideal," he began in what he hoped was a bracing tone, "Remember that Gryffindor is down not just a Captain, but a Chaser, as well. What do we know about who they've got to replace Katie?"
He looked to Draco, who had just finished pulling on his emerald robes and was adjusting his flying gloves.
"They're playing Dean Thomas," Draco advised, loud enough for the rest of the team to hear, "He's a good flier, but doesn't have much experience playing with a team."
Harry nodded his head approvingly. Dean and Seamus Finnigan were often seen in company with Ron and Theo. Harry was pleased that Draco wasn't allowing his friendships to mar their sport, and accordingly recommended, "Stay on Robins and Weasley. Try to keep Thomas isolated. Even if he gets the quaffle, he won't have his teammates to help him. Urquhart, you stop Thomas at the goal. Understood?"
Urquhart nodded his head silently. Baddock and Pritchard loudly proclaimed that if Thomas was any good, they'd simply knock him off his broom. Astoria remained quiet, though completive gleam in her eyes, usually reserved when she was on her broomstick, had already stolen over her expression.
Soon, they walked onto the pitch to the sound of tumultuous roars from their fellow Slytherins, and deafening boos from the other three houses. Even the rumors that Harry was the Chosen One had failed to make more Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students sympathetic to the Slytherin team. Harry paid no mind to the sea of red and gold banners surrounding him as he stepped up to Madam Hooch, who stood ready to release the struggling bludgers from their crate.
"Captains, shake hands," she ordered. Harry extended his hand to Ron, who was looking very nervous as Katie's stand-in. Harry briefly considered wishing him luck, but deciding to take his own advice and not go easy on his rival, merely gripped his hand firmly before mounting his broom.
The whistle sounded, and Harry kicked off hard from the ground, his team right behind him. The quaffle was released, and they were off.
Harry began circling the perimeter of the grounds, dividing his attention between his players and his search for the snitch. He was keeping his eyes on Draco, keen to see how he would play against Gryffindor, when a familiar voice rose up from the stands.
"And there they go! I'm looking forward to seeing how Gryffindor flies this year, being down a Captain, and all," Blaise cooed into his wand, his voice amplified for the entire stadium to hear. He had succeeded in convincing McGonagall to let him commentate the match, though she had strictly advised him to remain impartial. At a warning shake of her head, Blaise continued in a conciliatory tone, "Of course, I'm sure Weasley will do a fine job in her place. I'm talking about Ronald Weasley, the Keeper. It gets confusing, having two Weasleys on a team, doesn't it? Incidentally, I learned something interesting about Chaser Weasley just this week... Don't worry, Professor. I'm just adding a bit of human interest... You see, I have it on good authority that quaffles aren't the only balls Miss Ginevra Weasley has been chasing of late… WATCH IT!"
For at that moment, Draco had snatched the club out of Baddock's hand and slammed a roving bludger at the tower where Blaise was delivering his commentary. Blaise had narrowly missed taking a the ball to the face.
Cursing the tasteless impropriety of his friend, Harry turned back to see what had become of Draco. But Blaise's commentary had sparked such a wave of outrage from the Gryffindor side of the field that the foul had gone unnoticed. In fact, while Blaise had been casting aspersions against her, Ginny used the opportunity to score the first goal against Slytherin. Gryffindor's boos quickly turned to cheers, and the Slytherin Chasers scrambled to catch up.
Blaise lost any favor he had managed to curry with Professor McGonagall, who assumed the responsibility of commentator herself from that point forward. As the game progressed, the two teams seemed fairly evenly matched. Ginny was clearly her team's ace. She managed to score three more goals in the first half-hour, bringing Gryffindor's total score up to sixty. But Draco wasn't giving up without a fight. He had intercepted at least one of her attempted passes to Dean, and turned it around to score a goal for Slytherin.
Astoria was doing her part, as well. She earned twenty points for Slytherin, adding to Vaisey's goal as they approached the hour-mark. Slytherin was still behind by twenty points, but it was a gap they could easily close. Harry simply needed to catch the snitch…
From the corner of his eye, he spotted Theo Nott taking a sudden dive. It could be a feint, he thought at first, intended to distract Harry while his team was in possession of the quaffle. Too late, he saw the familiar glint of gold. It was no feint. Theo had spotted the snitch.
Harry lay flat against his broom. His Nimbus was faster than Theo's Comet. He could outfly him most days. But that split-second of hesitation, that moment of doubt, cost him everything. In desperation, Harry's hand reached for the bristles of Theo's broom, prepared to take the foul if it meant stopping him from getting the snitch. But it was too late. Theo's hand closed around the struggling snitch, and just like that, the game was over.
His team was silent as they stalked away from the cheers of the crowd and the knot of celebrating Gryffindors. They spoke no words of reproach, but Harry could feel their bitter disappointment. He couldn't blame them. This was not an auspicious beginning to his reign as the Slytherin Captain. He could already hear the whispers saying that he had only been picked to represent his House because he was the "Chosen One."
But no one could criticize him as badly as Harry could himself. He had been so worried that Draco would underperform, he failed to focus on his own role as Seeker. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing he had no one to blame for Slytherin's loss other than himself.
It didn't help to see Hermione sitting in her usual spot at the Slytherin table that evening, a textbook propped open before her as she ate her dinner, acting as though everything was normal.
"So, you finally decided to join us?" Harry said. His disappointment made him eager to pick a fight with someone, even as a little voice in his head cried out that he was wrong.
"Neville told me about the game," said Hermione, meeting Harry's glare with a frown of her own, "I'm sorry you lost, Harry, but you don't have to take it out on me..."
"You wouldn't have had to hear about it from Neville if you'd just shown up," Harry persisted, stabbing a fork into a piece of steak and dragging it onto his plate. "Why didn't you come to the game?"
"I was in the library," Hermione said firmly.
"You expect me to believe you were doing homework? When you knew I had a quidditch match?"
"If you must know, I was actually reading up on prophecies!" said Hermione, "Not that it matters. I could have been studying for Ancient Runes, if I wanted! Not everything has to be about you!"
"Except yeah, it kind of does," Harry spat, "I'm the Chosen One, remember? And in case you haven't realized, I probably don't have many quidditch games left! Voldemort is trying to kill me!"
Their argument drew stares from those seated closest to them, while Hermione merely stared at Harry in shock. To his horror, her eyes slowly began to fill with tears.
"... I can't do this anymore," she murmured, rising slowly from her feet, "I know you're having a hard time, Harry… And I can't imagine what it feels like… But we can't keep doing this! It's not my fault you lost your stupid quidditch match! It's not my fault some dumb prophecy made you… Whatever it is you are!"
She turned on her heel and fled. Neville, after a moment of indecision, received a nod from Millie and went to check on her. Harry was left staring after them in silence, reflecting that in some ways, it was a fitting end to a very bad day.
"Tough luck, mate," Blaise said, clapping a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "Maybe next time you should take a sip of that Felix Felicis Slughorn gave you, eh?"