AN: Merry Christmas my friends! This is unedited by betas but I wanted to give you a present. Cheers!
Whispers in Her Hair
by Indygodusk
Chapter 9: Second Year - Harry's Apology Plan
The day of the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff game dawned with clear blue skies and bright yellow sunshine, turning the light sliding through the underwater windows into the dungeons a pretty blue-green. Harry woke up, realized the date, and had to put a pillow over his face to muffle his freak out as he realized that today was the day to implement his apology plan. No more procrastinating.
"You okay in there, mate?" Blaise's concerned and amused voice drifted through the heavy velvet curtains around his bed.
"Fine!" Harry squeaked out before smashing his pillow over his face again to slow down his breathing so he didn't pass out and make himself late for breakfast. Trying to calm down, he went over the plan in his mind again and gave himself a pep talk.
In true Gryffindor style, he'd created a 'no guts, no glory' plan to apologize to Hermione. He'd be disgusted with himself if he wasn't so desperate to get a certain curly-haired Gryffindor to forgive him. Trying to think and organize like Hermione, he'd made an extremely comprehensive plan. He'd never been this organized, with multiple fall-back plans if the primary one didn't work out spanning every letter of the alphabet and all possible contingencies (the scroll really was thicker than Blaise's arm).
No matter what happened, Harry promised himself that he wasn't going to let the day end without apologizing to Hermione face-to-face. This time he wouldn't squeak, wheeze, or flail. This time he'd be smooth, sincere, and confident and make sure he got out all the words. He'd look into her eyes and say, "I am sorry." Though just in case he'd also practiced saying, "I'm sorry" and, "Please forgive me" and even a combination of, "Please, I'm sorry, forgive me." He'd have to play it by ear to see which seemed most appropriate when the moment came, but however it was worded, it needed to be done today. He was going to do it. Today!
The snow had melted yesterday afternoon, uncovering the muddy brown grass of the Quidditch pitch. It looked about as pleasant as the ragged fur on Weasley's pet rat Scabbers. At least the game was played in the air and not on the ground because he wanted Hermione to be in a good mood today. Hopefully it wasn't a bad omen for Harry's plans.
Harry obviously sucked at this friend thing, but it wasn't like he had a lot of experience having friends or repairing relationships. Growing up, Dudley had frightened away everyone who thought to be nice to Harry, much less befriend him. If Harry calculated it out, he'd only really had friends—subtracting out last summer's separation—for about a year and a half out of twelve years. If you factored in that Draco was one of those friends the time should probably be even shorter. That was less than ten percent of his life! The amount of time he'd spent talking to girls was even smaller. A little awkwardness and the occasional mistake was only natural. However, he was fixing that. Today!
Harry's plan had a good chance of making the people in Slytherin mad at him. He was going to mitigate that as best he could but wouldn't let it hold him back. Part of his problem was that he'd spent too much time this year being self-conscious and listening to other people's opinions instead of focusing on what he knew to be true. He'd given into his fears and lost his focus. No more!
After rolling out of bed, he showered, brushed his teeth, and dressed carefully in his nicest robes. Combing his hair in front of the mirror, he squeezed on some Sleekeazy Hair Potion and carefully worked it through his black hair. He'd been gobsmacked to learn that the potion had been created by Fleamont Potter, his paternal grandfather. Draco had looked into it and told Harry that sales of the potion back in the day had increased the Potter family's already large fortune even before Fleamont had sold the company for a huge profit, making the Potters one of the richest families in England.
Harry kept forgetting that he wasn't poor anymore. It didn't seem very relevant at school and he didn't have access to the money during summers at the Dursleys. The only time he saw the money was when he was escorted to the bank in August to get some galleons to purchase school supplies. Maybe he'd have to see if he could change that in the future, but he couldn't think of anything to do about it now. Running his hands through his hair, he wondered if his crazy hair was common for the men in his family and if that had been the reason Fleamont had created the hair potion in the first place. The family connection made him smile, like his grandfather was looking over his shoulder and trying to help him look his best today.
Rinsing off his fingers, Harry shook off the water droplets and started styling his hair the way Blaise had been nagging him to do ever since the other boy had decided that he was in charge of Harry's haircuts. Harry had feared that he'd accidentally use too much potion on himself and his hair would end up slicked flat with his scar sticking out like a huge red pimple, but the potion only tamed his thick hair, it didn't flatten it like roadkill. Blaise had been right about the styling, though Harry wouldn't risk telling him so for fear it would inflate his head so big he'd never fit through a doorway again. His black locks somehow looked purposefully messy, tousling perfectly across his scar to hide it and combining with his glasses to give him an air of sophistication and cool confidence. He looked good, really good.
Maybe he'd also have to start listening better to Draco's lectures on how personal appearance influenced perception and power. Not today, though. Today was apology day.
Harry looked around to make sure the bathroom was empty, then braced his hands on the sink and stared hard into the bright green eyes reflecting back at him in the mirror. "Okay, Harry, you can do this. You are brave. You are cunning. You are sorry. This is going to work. You are going to go out there today and you are going to apologize to Hermione. No more hesitation. No more pride. You are going to do whatever it takes to earn her forgiveness. Even if a Weasley says something, you will not let them get inside your head. The teasing and insults from everyone, including other Slytherins, will bounce off you like marshmallows. They can't change your mind. You know what you have to do. You will apologize. You have a good plan. You have contingencies. You are prepared. You will not give up no matter what happens. You are proud of yourself for apologizing. Hermione is your focus. Her friendship is priceless and you will do whatever you have to do to earn it back. Today! You will not fail. You can do this!" He pointed at himself in the mirror and nodded in agreement. "I can do this!"
Harry leaned back and let go of the sink, looking straight up. "And if you're watching out for me, Mum, Dad, Grandfather Potter, and various deceased relatives, I'd really appreciate any help you could send my way today to keep me from screwing this up. Help me be a friend you'd be proud of." Sucking in a deep breath, Harry straightened the fall of his robes, checked that the present in his pocket was still there, and turned to go.
Only to find himself face-to-face with a pair of huge grey eyes. "Gah!"
Stumbling back, he fumbled out his wand, only to hear a giggle. Sucking in his breath, he realized that it was only Moaning Myrtle.
Wait.
Moaning Myrtle. In his bathroom. The bathroom where he used the toilet and showered. Naked. Moaning Myrtle was in his bathroom, staring at him and giggling. Harry gulped.
"Bravo! Lovely speech, Harry. Your friend's a lucky girl," Myrtle said in a wispy voice, twisting back and forth on her toes as she twiddled her thumbs. Turning, she floated around the room and peered through the gaps in the shower curtains, seemingly disappointed at finding them all empty. "I wish someone would care enough to apologize to me like that." Sighing, she flew over and leaned against the mirror, seemingly unbothered that she didn't have a reflection or that her body was cut in half by the sink.
"Myrtle, what are you doing in the Slytherin bathroom? The boy's bathroom?" Heart still pounding, Harry pressed a hand against his chest, feeling very uncomfortable and slightly underdressed, even in his thick winter robes.
"Oh, Valeria invited me," she said breezily.
"What?" Harry squeaked. "Valeria did?"
Nodding, Myrtle gave a shy smile. "When I told her how lonely my bathroom feels. She's the only one brave enough to regularly use my loo instead of detouring to a different floor just to avoid me. She said I didn't have to be alone if I didn't want to be and was free to come over to the Slytherin Dorm or anywhere in the castle really. Said no one was going to save me from loneliness and that if it really bothered me I'd have to save myself, told me that I should save myself." She bit her lip and tilted her head in thought. "You see, I haven't wanted to leave my bathroom since it's where I'm most comfortable. Dying somewhere really makes it a home." She paused and stared at him as if waiting for a response.
Slightly disturbed and feeling out of his depth, Harry just said, "Okay."
Thankfully that seemed to be enough as Myrtle continued. "So I was sitting there in the u-bend feeling sorry for myself when I remembered that it's normal for people to leave home occasionally to go on vacation. I haven't been on a vacation since I died, though when the girl who used to bully me graduated from school I would leave all of the time to follow her around and torment her, but that was more like work, though work I loved, but then she complained to the Ministry and they did something that confined me to the castle and away from her, which was very unfair and made me quite cross." She pouted.
"I can see that," Harry said, tilting his head to the side and really thinking about it. "If I was a ghost, I'd probably want to torment my bullies too." He found himself nodding. "Yeah." He'd certainly haunt the Dursleys, not to mention Derrick and Bole. Probably the Weasleys too, see if he could turn their red hair white. Maybe pop in on Draco every once in a while just to startle him into jumping and screaming like a little girl. "Being forced to stay and live somewhere you don't want to stinks. I know all about that."
Beaming, Myrtle flew forward and reached out to pinch Harry's cheek, though her fingers went right through his face. He flinched back before forcing himself to hold still as her ghostly hands cupped his face. It didn't feel like anything, but he could see the shape of her hands from the corners of his eyes. "I knew I liked you, Harry. You're not just a pretty face. You're understanding and kind. That's rare you know."
"Thanks," he said awkwardly, not knowing what to say to that.
A crooked smile rounded Myrtle's cheeks and made her nose wrinkle in a silly way that was just so human that it struck him suddenly that Myrtle had been a real, living girl once who'd had her life stolen from her. She hadn't always been a ghost and had probably never expected or wanted to end up this way. Who did?
Thinking about his plans for the day, Harry pushed down his discomfort, straightened his back, and looked into her ghostly grey eyes. Now was as good of a time to start as any and maybe Myrtle deserved this just as much as Hermione did. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry you were bullied and I'm sorry you were killed. You deserved better, Myrtle. I hope you get it someday."
Smile faltering, Myrtle's lower lip trembled and her eyes glistened with tears. "Oh…" she swallowed hard. "Thank you, Harry." The trembling took over her entire body as tears overflowed and slid down her cheeks in gleaming silver tracks, more powerful for being silent. "No one's… ever… said that... to me… before." Putting her hands over her face, she broke down into hitching sobs. "No one's… ever… apologized."
"I'm sorry," Harry said again, feeling an unexpected stinging in his nose and eyes as he watched her, unable to even put a hand on her shoulder in comfort. He felt helpless. All he had were words, inadequate but sincere. "I'm sorry, Myrtle. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right. I'm so sorry."
Looking up and biting her lip, Myrtle jumped forward and gave Harry a ghostly hug. It was like being engulfed in a cool, silvery-grey mist. For a split second he felt a wet cheek pressing against his jaw. Then the feeling disappeared as she flew straight through him and gave a loud sob, diving into the nearest toilet stall with a wail and sending up a plume of water as she disappeared into the pipes.
-oo0oo-
When Harry came out into the common room, he looked over at his favorite tapestry of Aglaia posing triumphantly in her potions lab and took a deep breath. With Aglaia the Unforgiving, no one ever mentioned if anyone had actually apologized to her before she'd potioned them into submission. Harry liked to think that if someone had, she might've given them a chance to redeem themselves before dosing them with the Draught of Living Death. It had probably taken courage, cunning, and a good dose of humility to bargain with Medusa and the gorgons. Harry wasn't looking for blood today, just forgiveness, but both were equally precious and hard to come by whether it came from hot Medusa or Hermione.
A wolf whistle jerked him out of his thoughts, "Looking good there, Harry. Trying to make Blaise jealous? Where are you off to? Breakfast is almost over by now." Pansy was sitting on the arm of a black leather couch leaning over Daphne and Tracey so they could all read Witch Weekly together. She swung her foot as she stared at him. He could practically see the calculations racing behind her eyes.
Lifting his chin, Harry decided to treat this as his first test. Letting his friends know now would leave him better able to focus and protect himself from the reactions of others later. He would not falter. "I'm going to apologize to Hermione today."
Eyes widening, Pansy slipped off the arm of the couch and onto the floor with a squawk. Batting hair out of her face, she came up onto her knees and stared at him. "What, seriously? It's been months! I thought you'd decided to stew in regret and frustration forever, clinging to your pride and not even saying her name until maybe you were on your deathbed and the chance of dying of mortification became a moot point."
"You know that if you apologize, Blaise will lose half of his jokes," Daphne said with an edge of amusement in her voice. "He'll have to come up with brand new material. He'll also lose half his money."
"I'll win some though, so go for it, Harry," Tracey said, closing the magazine around her finger and smirking up at him tongue in cheek.
Harry blinked and processed what they'd just said. "Wait, what? People were... betting on me?"
Tracey snorted "Of course they were, don't you ever pay attention? Especially to the rich brats with too much money and not enough brains, like Draco, Blaise, Daphne, and Pansy." She gestured to her friends.
"Hey!" Pansy glared.
Snatching away the Witch Weekly, Daphne put her nose in the air. "Gambling and being irresponsible with our parents' money is a time-honored tradition in Slytherin."
"Maybe amongst rich kids," Tracey rolled her eyes. "I suppose you're usually broke, Harry, but the rest of us use our measly allowance on the bets, giving into temptation when something juicy happens."
Nodding, Daphne started counting off on her fingers. "We bet on if and when you'd talk to Granger, if and when she'd talk to you, and on who'd apologize or if you'd both carry the grudge to your graves."
Tracey smirked. "I said you'd finally give in and talk to her again in February and since this is the last weekend of the month, I should win something, though like Pansy I didn't think you'd ever actually apologize. Just talk. In fact, I think Draco was the only one who put any money on you ever saying sorry. He didn't put money down on a specific date though so if you go through with apologizing, we're all going to owe him a lot of money."
Harry couldn't believe this. "You all suck."
Pansy snorted and sat back up on the arm of the couch. "Yes, and? Everybody does it. I know for a fact that most of you have bet on whether I'll give up on Draco soon or if he'll finally succumb to my charms, which he will. Any day now." Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Pansy added, "And in the interest of full disclosure since it seems you've been living in ignorance, Blaise tried to claim that Granger fixing your glasses before the last game counted as her giving you an apology and that he should get a payout since he'd bet she would apologize in January, but Draco as a witness overruled him."
Giving Tracey a sideways glance, Pansy got an evil glint in her eye. "If you'll wait a few more days to apologize, Tracey won't get any money either."
"Hey!" Tracey protested, shoving Pansy off her perch and back onto the floor.
"I hate all of you," Harry snapped, his face feeling redder than a tomato.
Tracey rolled her eyes. "Oh lighten up, Harry. It's not a big deal."
Turning on his heel to leave with a huff, he ran into Flint standing in the doorway leading to the hall. "Sorry," Harry said curtly.
"No problem." The corner of Flint's lips twitched up. "Since I thought you'd make up with the girl ages ago, I already lost my stake in the outcome. I don't mind telling you that Granger just left the Great Hall and went towards the library. Good luck. I hope it works out."
A wordless spurt of air escaped Harry's clenched teeth.
"If she gets called up to play today, remember that we want Gryffindor to lose or tie," Flint added, clapping Harry on the back and moving over to sink down in front of the roaring fire, nudging aside a lower-ranking seventh year, who picked up his book and moved to the nearest armchair instead, only the tightness around his eyes revealing his annoyance at having to move from the warmest spot in the dungeons in favor of the younger but more socially powerful Quidditch Captain.
Everyone in Slytherin was hoping against hope that today's Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch game would end in a tie, as unlikely as that was to happen once, much less twice in a single season. Ravenclaw's team had already lost twice, so they were out of the running for the cup no matter how they did in their final game, though Slytherin was obviously cheering for them to beat Gryffindor in that match. Hufflepuff had one win going into today's match, so if they won this one too they'd be ahead of Slytherin in the standings. If Gryffindor won they'd be tied with Slytherin, which wasn't great but better than Slytherin being behind. However, if Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tied, Gryffindor would be behind and Hufflepuff would be tied with Slytherin. That wouldn't be bad at all because Flint was confident that their team could win against the Hufflepuffs. Total points earned over the season only counted towards the cup when teams had equal numbers of wins and losses, so that probably wouldn't come into play this year. If it did, Harry would have to delay catching the Snitch in their last game as long as possible to give his team a chance to earn the extra points needed to win.
All of that combined to make the students in Slytherin rather invested in today's game. Thinking of the conversations he'd been overhearing for weeks, Harry realized that he'd been woefully ignorant. Almost everyone was betting on some aspect of the game, from who'd win to number of goals to number of fouls. He just hadn't realized that all of the times he'd heard someone say, "I bet you a sickle Hufflepuff wins," they'd been betting actual money.
No big deal. Betting on sports was fine. Or Draco betting real money on Lockhart falling out a window. That was fine too.
Betting on Harry ever being friends with Hermione again? NOT FINE. He was embarrassed, angry, ashamed, and secretly a little bit hurt.
Trying to distract himself with thoughts on Quidditch hadn't worked. Sucking air in through his nose, face feeling like it was on fire and his belly full of acid, Harry sent a glare at the girls on the couch and barely stopped himself from doing something dangerous and stupid like glaring or even worse swearing at Flint before he stomped away into the hallway.
He took the stairs up two at a time to work out some of his frustration and ducked into the Great Hall anyway just in case Flint had been lying because he actually did still have some skin in the game. He didn't see Hermione at the sparsely populated Gryffindor table, just the stupid Weasley twins and a few students he didn't know by name.
Plan A—apologize to Hermione during breakfast—was now a bust. On to Plan B. He'd have to shift his behavior to account for her being the library, but it was still fine. Irritating, but fine.
Before he could leave, someone tugged on the back of his robes. "Hey."
Harry ripped himself free, almost choking himself as the collar pulled tight across his throat. It was like a spark to tinder. Why couldn't people just leave him alone so he could go and apologize to Hermione? Why did they have to keep interrupting him? Turning around with a harsh cough and a wheeze, he scowled at Valeria standing behind him. "What do you want?" he snarled.
One dark brow arched over Valeria's rapidly cooling expression. "Excuse me?"
Harry straightened his twisted robes and sucked on a tooth. Nothing was going right this morning. "Well? Did you place a bet too?" He hadn't meant to accuse her, but he was too mad to keep his mouth shut.
"On what? That you'd lose your temper today? That's a sucker's bet." She looked him up and down with pursed lips, taking in his nice robes, carefully styled hair, and furrowed brow before her expression shifted. "Okay, pause. Normally I'd rip you to shreds, but I think we're having a miscommunication. Since I'm trying to be nicer since New Years, let's start this conversation over again so we don't start fighting. Unless you want a fight with me?" She tapped her palm with the tip of the wand he'd swear she hadn't been holding a second ago.
Fight with Valeria? Did he want to die? No, not without apologizing to Hermione first, darnit.
Inhaling deeply, Harry blew out every bit of air in his lungs along with his angry thoughts in a long, slow stream until nothing was left and he was feeling light-headed, a technique she'd actually taught him during Viper School to manage his temper. He took in another breath and forced his shoulders down. "No, I don't want to fight with you."
"Then sit down. We're drawing attention." Valeria put a hand on his back and firmly guided him to a place at the Slytherin table. Harry didn't resist. He didn't trust his tongue or temper around Hermione right now anyway. Most of the food had been picked over but Valeria poured him a cup of what turned out to be peppermint tea and put a slightly squashed chocolate-filled croissant on a plate for him before pouring herself a cup from the same teapot.
Sipping the hot tea, Harry felt the warmth slide all the way down his throat to his belly with a minty tingle. He took a bite of the croissant and sighed. "I have things I need to do this morning." He glanced over at the doors.
Valeria eyed him with a thoughtful hum and added a slice of beans on toast to his plate along with sausage and some pears. "Eat first."
"I'm on a schedule," Harry said impatiently, shoving the rest of the croissant into his mouth. As soon as the warm chocolate oozed out and combined with the taste of buttery bread on his tongue, he realized that he was actually starving. He often forgot to pay attention to signals from his body. Harry swallowed and shoved an entire pear slice into his mouth. Maybe he would eat, he'd just do it quickly. He put a chunk of sausage into his mouth. It actually paired nicely with the pear.
"Your muggle manners are deplorable," Valeria shook her head and rolled her eyes. "You don't have to cram the food into your mouth. Eat slowly." She took a dainty sip of her tea.
"Hey," Harry swallowed the food in his mouth before saying more, "it's being a growing boy in a hurry, not being raised muggle. For evidence I give you purebloods Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Ronald Weasley. They stuff their mouths at every meal and never chew with their mouths shut, much less wait to swallow before talking and spewing food all over the table."
Valeria wrinkled her nose and curled her lip. "Fair point."
"Also..." Harry looked down at his half-empty teacup as he finished quietly, "Hermione Granger has some of the loveliest table manners in school and she was raised by muggles."
There was a beat of silence before Valeria spoke. "I guess you have spent enough meals staring over at her to notice."
"Yeah…" Harry took a big bite of beans on toast and washed it down with the last of his tea. Wiping his mouth, he put down his napkin and faced Valeria. "I'm going to apologize to her today. I'm going to fix our friendship." The more people he told, the less likely they were to be shocked and the less likely he was to chicken out or put it off again.
Eyes darkening, she dropped her eyes and stared into her teacup, sloshing the golden tea back and forth up to the rim but never quite over. Her dark hair had started to grow out again since she'd returned from Christmas, thick and tightly curling enough to hide the scar on her scalp. "Are you sure you really want to be associated with her again?" Putting down her teacup, she turned it so the handle was precisely parallel to the edge of the table.
Stomach souring, Harry put his hand flat on the table, pushing himself to his feet to leave.
Valeria took a quick breath and put a single finger on the back of his hand, a silent request to hear her out but... not a demand. The finger exerted almost no pressure, unexpected considering Valeria's usual battering ram approach. If she'd grabbed his arm he'd have shaken her off and stormed out, but the soft fingertip had him pausing and easing back down onto the bench to listen. "What?"
"We both know I'm not good at being nice, but I..." biting her lip, Valeria looked unexpectedly awkward, "I'm invested in you and—and that means I get to give you advice." She took a nervous slurp of tea.
Harry flattened his lips, bracing himself for unwanted words about mudbloods and Gryffindors, but Valeria surprised him again as she put down her teacup with a clatter.
"Look, Granger hurt you, really hurt you. She's a big weakness for you and I don't like that." The corners of her lips tightened and pulled down as she glared at a ring of condensation on the table. "I don't like you being so vulnerable. I don't have a spell to protect you from that and I don't want her to hurt you like that again."
Sighing, Harry fiddled with the fork next to his plate, rotating it to watch the tines catch the shine from the fake sun in the enchanted ceiling overhead as he marshalled his thoughts. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I think it's impossible to not be vulnerable with friends, at least the really good ones. It's true that Hermione and I hurt each other, but not on purpose. In fact, I owe her an apology much more than she owes me one. It probably sounds stupid, but before we argued she was one of the few people in my life who cared about me as 'just Harry' instead of The-Boy-Who-Lived, Slytherin-Reborn, or The-Next-Dark-Lord. I miss that."
"I'm trying to understand," Valeria said slowly.
Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Being around her made me smarter and stronger. It made me want to be better and, most importantly, it made me happy. I miss her. I miss being her friend. Good friends protect and support each other, or at least I think they're supposed to. Hermione, Blaise, and Draco were the first friends I ever really had. You know what a mess Draco is," Harry rolled his eyes but couldn't keep the small smile off his lips, "but even so, they taught me that good friends support you, forgive you for not being perfect, and work to turn your frowns into smiles. I haven't been a good friend to Hermione this year, but I want to—need to be better. I need to be someone I can be proud to see staring back at me in the mirror. Not just because she deserves better, but because I do too."
Feeling self-conscious at revealing so much, he threaded his fingers together and squeezed, watching his knuckles turn from red to white. "Does that make sense?"
He looked up and saw the Weasley twins standing at a nearby table eating pastry scraps. They looked close enough to have overheard him. He went hot and then cold. They shuffled off casually as soon as he looked up, but it made him intensely uncomfortable.
Tattooing her fingers on the table, Valeria recaptured his attention with her next words. "I don't trust her but… I do trust you, Harry. I don't have much experience with good friends either but I—I want you to know that I care about 'just Harry' too. I'm also your friend."
Ducking his head, Harry felt unaccountably shy. "Thanks, Valeria. If I haven't said it before, I'm really glad I got to know you this year. I hope you know that you're my friend too and if there's ever anything I can do to help you, all you have to do is ask. I mean, I might try to talk you out of murdering somebody, but I'd still totally help you make them wish they'd never been born and, if I'm too late, I'd help you hide the body and save my lecture for another day."
When he looked up Valeria was watching him with warm eyes and a crooked smile. "You know, this year is the happiest I've ever been, thanks in part to you, Harry. You are a good friend. I hope your apology to Granger works out and she sees that for herself."
The two of them stood up and started to walk out. Valeria's expression closed down into its usual cool elegance as she straightened the seams running down her arms until they fell over her wrists just so. "If not, I'm more than happy to hex her... or anyone else you think deserves it." She gave him a vicious smirk. "Though I probably won't wait before giving you a lecture, knowing me. Both of us like our speeches." She saluted him with her wand. "Good luck."
In the entrance hall Valeria took the doorway leading down to the dungeon while Harry turned and made his way up the main staircase towards the library.
He asked a Ravenclaw on her way out of the library if she'd seen Hermione. The girl nodded and helpfully pointed towards a far corner where the books were so old that the English might as well have been Mongolian given how difficult it was to read. The only reason they weren't in the restricted section was because they supposedly didn't contain any dangerous spells or illegal information and thus didn't meet Madam Pince's strict criteria for being locked up.
Draco and Harry had tried to look at a few of the creature books back there over the break in their search for bobbing fangfaces and basilisks, but most of the books were so old that even with the preservation spells the images had started to fade and they had to keep a dictionary cracked open just to make sense of the descriptions. It had been too much work and not enough fun. He wondered what Hermione was looking for back there.
Brushing down the front of his robes to make sure he hadn't dropped any crumbs, Harry squared his shoulders and went looking for Hermione. He'd just caught sight of her downturned head at the end of the next row as she frantically scribbled down information from the book open on her knee when Jonah Skipper's dark blond mop popped up next to her, coming from the opposite direction.
"Hermione, where've you been? You idiot, stop studying and get up," Skipper's voice echoed through the stacks as he poked her in the shoulder. "We've got to get to the locker room. You're lucky Wood made me come looking for you before you missed the game, not that we're going to need you, but come on!"
Where did Skipper get off talking to Hermione like that? Next time Harry caught him alone he was going to make the other Seeker regret it. In fact—
Pausing to duck into the nearest row, Harry slid his wand through a gap in the books, aimed at Skipper, and cast a Cramp and Gas jinx (called a CAG in Viper school), wishing he had time to do something worse. The brownish-green light hit Skipper in the back and he grimaced, putting a hand on his stomach as it gave a loud, unhappy gurgle.
Hermione frowned up at Skipper, looking agitated. "Sorry, it's just that I've discovered a creature that migh—"
BPPPfffhhtt—! Skipper's loud fart interrupted her mid-word. His face went bright red. "Who cares? Figure it out later. The game is starting soon. Unless you want to be kicked off the team, come on!"
"Oh, fine!" Eyes watering, Hermione pressed the back of her hand to her nose and shoved the book she'd been reading back onto the shelf, almost dropping the notes and inkpot balanced on her knee.
Harry rushed down the aisle, picking up his pace. Surely she could spare him just a couple of minutes to talk. She had to want an excuse to get away from Skipper and the game wasn't actually starting for an hour yet. Plan B was ever so much better than Plan C—apologizing in the hallway front of the Gryffindor locker room where the rest of her team might show up and start heckling.
Hermione folded over her notes and crammed them into the pocket of her robes, the creamy corner of the parchment sticking out like a spilled dollop of whipped cream. Skipper capped her ink and tossed it into her bag, plucking the quill from her hand and flinging it in there too before closing the flap and stuffing it into her arms. Grabbing her elbow, he yanked her to her feet and off in the opposite direction of Harry, disappearing behind a shelf with a rank BPPPfffhhtt—!
Seeing Plan B going down the drain, Harry ran forward but couldn't see her anywhere, despite following the trail of stench. Growling, he rushed from the library—avoiding Madam Pince's glare—and ran down the hallway, taking a secret passageway behind a statue that led to a slide that took you all the way down to the ground floor. Landing on his feet, Harry took off at a steady lope for the hallway outside the Quidditch locker rooms, trying to head them off. Unfortunately he ran into Peeves and had to backtrack in another direction before the ghost saw him and threw raw eggs at his head.
By the time Harry had worked his way back around he was just in time to see the Gryffindor Quidditch portrait closing on Hermione and Skipper. Plan C was a bust.
"Son of a Snitch!" Turning, he kicked the wall hard. Harry was down to Plan D. It just kept getting worse. And now his foot hurt.
"I beg your pardon, what did my wall ever do to you!" Snapped the broomstick flyer in the portrait overhead.
Breathing heavily, resting his weight on his good foot, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his gift for Hermione. Looking down at the scarlet and gold fabric—colors he'd learned to hate over the last two years of schooling—he breathed in through his nose and blew out a hard breath. He'd promised himself to go through with this, no matter what. By now all of his friends and most of Slytherin probably knew he planned on apologizing to Hermione today. Soon the whole school would know. If he didn't go through with it, she'd hear the rumors and just be hurt all over again. He refused to let that happen.
"What've you got there, Potter?" asked the detestable voice of Fred Weasley (or George, he could never tell them apart).
Before Harry could stuff the item back into his pocket, it was plucked out of his hand and tossed to the Weasley twin farther down the hall. "Well well, take a look at this." The redhead unfurled it and showed it to his brother.
"Give it back!" Harry snapped, feeling the tips of his ears going hot.
"Is this a prank?" asked the closest twin, looking down his freckled nose at Harry with a crooked frown.
"No." Glaring up at him, Harry tried to go around but was stopped by a hand on his chest pushing him back.
"Then what is it?"
"What does it look like?" Harry clenched his jaw and fisted his wand inside his pocket. Two to one wasn't great odds but he wasn't exactly a novice at being ganged up on either.
"You tell us."
Lips pressing tight, he calculated if he could get away with hexing the twins right before the game. Losing would put him into the infirmary and make him look both stupid and weak, not the impression he wanted to leave today. If he succeeded Flint would love it, but Professor McGonagall would almost certainly give him detention for putting both her Beaters out of commission right before the game and Hermione would probably be miffed, making his apology all the harder, especially if he had to spend precious time locked away being punished by Filch or trying to chase Hermione down if she decided to avoid him. He would break into her common room to try and talk to her as a final resort—either under his invisibility cloak (Plan N), by charming a gullible Gryffindor (Plan O), or after stealing Polyjuice Potion from Snape's locked cabinet and potioning himself to look like one of the Gryffindors (hopefully not a Weasley) (Plan P).
Harry had never prepared for anything in his life as much as he'd prepared for this apology. He thought that Hermione would be proud if she knew, not that he intended for her to find out since it was also sort of embarrassing. The things he had to do got harder as he went farther down the alphabet. Better not to risk it by choking now.
It hurt to swallow down his temper, but he did it. He used honesty again, since a Gryffindor wouldn't expect it from a Slytherin and it might help his cause later. Besides, a good truth was better than a bad lie. "It's for Hermione in case Skipper gets hurt again and she's called up to play Seeker."
A Weasley snorted. "So you're really going to apologize to her publicly then? Humiliate yourself?"
Grinding his teeth, the back of his neck feeling clammy, Harry nodded curtly and glared. "Yes. She's worth it to me. Now give it back."
The brothers exchanged a look. "Hermione has been rather sad this year—"
"—pathetic really—"
"—not to mention that we've been feeling a tad—"
"—guilty for ruining your friendship—"
"—plus irritated with Skipper for—"
"—being such a sucky Seeker—"
"—and horrible human being—"
"—really he's a total git."
"Friendly fire?" They finished in tandem and exchanged toothy smiles.
Harry's head swivelled back and forth between the two of them. He was getting dizzy. And confused. "What?" Had they just agreed to help him?
"Cheers, Potter." The two boys flanked him and slapped him hard on the shoulders, making his knees buckle and sending him staggering.
"We'll do our part if you—"
"—do yours, snakeface."
"Not scarhead?" The other twin asked, cocking his head to the side and tossing the stolen present over his shoulder. Harry dived to catch it, scared it would break if it hit the ground too hard. He'd spent all month getting the charm work just right.
"Nah, scars aren't that bad. Slytherins on the other hand…."
By the time Harry looked back up, one of them had already whispered the password to the correct player in the portrait and the door to the locker room was swinging open. The two disappeared inside without another backwards glance.
Cracking his neck from side to side, Harry blew out his breath. Well then. Turning, he left for the Quidditch pitch. If he was going to do this, he was doing it right. He had to get there early to make sure he got the best seat for maximum visibility.
-oo0oo-
"So what's your big apology again? Is there something I'm missing?" Blaise put a hand on Harry's shoulder to balance himself as he stood up and looked around at where Harry had planted himself in the center of the front row of seats. They were in a tower with green flags decorating it. On the front bench sat Vincent, Greg, Draco, Pansy, Harry, Blaise, Millie, and Daphne, with the rest of the benches up behind them taken mostly by Slytherin students with a few Ravenclaw friends mixed in. There were no Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors.
"You're overthinking this, mate. That's been your problem all year. I'd have found you some flowers and chocolates. Girls love those. Put them with a fancy card and a little poem and all their anger just melts away." Blaise smiled and winked at a group of girls sitting a few rows up, setting off a storm of giggles. He tossed his scarf over his shoulder jauntily before sitting back down.
One of the girls leaned forward and called daringly, "You and Potter can practice with me anytime, Zabini." Her friends all broke into giggles.
A girl sitting on a different bench spoke up with annoyance in her voice. "Oh please! Potter shouldn't even be talking to a Gryffindor, much less giving one an apology. She made us lose the last game! It's stupid. He's stupid."
"You're stupid. Shut up and maybe he'll just forget about it," called a surly male voice.
"Seriously, who cares about Potter? The rest of us are trying to watch the game," snapped another boy.
Everyone took that as an invitation to put their two knuts in. They all now knew that Harry was planning to apologize to Hermione today. It would hopefully make the next part less shocking to them and thus less dangerous for himself. He didn't relish getting cursed in the back. He chewed on the ragged edge of his thumbnail and watched the sky for Skipper and the Weasleys.
"Enough!" Draco suddenly jumped to his feet, beating off Pansy's hands with awkward flailing that looked like he was trying to shoo away a swarm of flies. "Stop touching me!" Bits of his gelled blond hair stood up like horns from where she must've tried to run her fingers through it. Draco shoved at Greg, making him switch places so Draco could sit closer to the end with his bodyguards on either side. Pansy pouted next to Harry and crossed her arms with a huff, not noticing the sympathetic look Greg sent her way. She'd spent the entire game so far trying to slip her hands around Draco's arm and put her head on his shoulder, cooing nauseating compliments in his ear in hopes of wearing him down. Every time Draco shoved her off she'd bumped into Harry sitting next to her, once almost making his glasses fall off his nose to the ground far below. Harry was glad Draco had finally moved so their drama would stop and he could focus on Hermione and the next part of his plan.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Millie asked him skeptically from the other side of Blaise.
"Yes, I know what I'm doing, Millie," Harry grumbled, bitterly staring up at where stupid Skipper still flew in the sky. Occasionally Skipper's broom rocked and he'd adjust his seat uncomfortably as the CAG jinx continued to run its course, making his teammates screw up their faces in disgust, clap their hands over their noses, and give him a wide berth. Harry had thought he knew what he was doing, but it was looking more and more like the Weasley twins had tricked him. It was discouraging, but not a deal-breaker. He still had Plans E, F, and G for after the game depending on which team won or if they tied, but now that he was here he really wanted to do Plan D. He wanted Hermione to see him do Plan D and understand just how sorry he really felt and how much he wanted to support her and be her friend again.
"It's not Millie and I say you should've gotten her a book. Granger always has her nose in a book."
"Ha, even Harry is calling you Millie now!" Pansy leaned over Harry to stick out her tongue. Millie narrowed her eyes and thinned her lips in annoyance.
"I think Millie sounds cute, molto carina," Blaise said with a sideways smile and gentle nudge that made Millie's round cheeks go bright pink.
"I agree. It's much better than switching from Theo to Theodore," Daphne grinned at Millie and rolled her eyes.
"He's still serious about that?" Pansy wrinkled her nose and adjusted her beret so it sat at a more fashionable angle on her sleek black hair.
"Ever since his thirteenth birthday earlier this month." Blaise nodded and made a face. "If he thinks it will get him more respect he's dead wrong. I actually respect him less now, to be honest. I mean, Theodore? Really?"
Just then the gameplay overhead finally heated up. Harry leaned forward, putting a hand on the railing as the Hufflepuff Chasers bunched up, Quaffle in possession, and shot towards the Gryffindor goal like a triple-tipped arrow. The Gryffindor defense scrambled into an obviously well-practiced play that forced the Hufflepuff players up to avoid them, sending them right into the path of the Seekers who had the bad luck to be passing overhead at that exact moment. The Gryffindor Chasers boxed the Hufflepuffs in on all sides as the two Seekers frantically tried to swerve out of the way, but the press of bodies was such that all of them were funneled back down towards the Weasley Beaters. Just before the mass of players reached them, the Weasleys began spinning their brooms like mini-cyclones, breaking up the Hufflepuff Chasers' arrowpoint formation and sucking in the two Seekers as collateral damage. Brooms and players flew in all directions.
In all of the commotion, one of the Weasleys' Beater bats "accidentally" whacked Skipper into the other brother, whose broom then "accidentally" smacked Skipper in the back of the head, flinging him off his broom and into the arms of the Hufflepuff Chaser flying below who'd managed to dodge through the trap with the Quaffle still in hand.
"Yes! Finally!" Harry jumped to his feet and threw his hands up into the air.
The Hufflepuff Chaser had been about to throw the Quaffle through the Gryffindor goal when Skipper landed on top of her. The impact mashed their faces together in a parody of a kiss. The Chaser instantly dropped the Quaffle and reared back in horror.
Mouth trailing drool and eyes crossing, Skipper flopped forward and almost slid off until the Chaser hauled him back up onto her broom at the last second. She spit several times, trying to clean her mouth and not seeming to care if the spit landed on the boy in her lap.
Grinning viciously, Harry plopped back into his seat and pressed a hand to his chest. His heart felt like it was about to jump out of his throat. "Thank Merlin, I was starting to give up on those redheaded tosspots pulling through for me."
"What?" Blaise looked sideways at Harry in confusion.
Wood scooped up the falling Quaffle and tossed it behind his back to Johnson, who tucked it under her arm and shot forward, dodging through the still disoriented players. One of the Weasleys was hurling chunks over the side of his broom while his brother laughed and tried to aim his vomiting at the other players. Johnson threw the Quaffle towards the central goal hoop. It skittered across the Hufflepuff Keeper's fingertips and barely scraped through the hoop to score a point for Gryffindor.
Harry happily joined the rest of Slytherins in loudly booing the Gryffindor goal, though he was more interested in what was happening with Skipper. A timeout was called and the Hufflepuff Chaser dumped Skipper off in front of the medical tent without a backwards glance, scrubbing her arm across her mouth as she rejoined her team. Skipper landed on the muddy grass and didn't stir even when Madam Pomprey bustled up.
"Bet you didn't see that betrayal coming, now did you," Harry gloated.
Grabbing Harry's arm, Blaise's eyes went wide. "Wait wait wait, you knew that was going to happen? You somehow got the Weasleys to hit Skipper in the head on purpose?"
"No way," Millie breathed from Blaise's other side, mouth falling open as she leaned forward to stare at Harry.
Harry wagged his eyebrows. "You should never underestimate me."
Putting a hand on the railing, Pansy leaned around in front of him to see his face. "Harry! How did you convince a Gryffindor to backstab a teammate? Especially in the middle of a game?"
"Surprisingly, it was easier than I thought," Harry smirked, spinning it for all he was worth.
"Merlin's pants," Blaise swore admiringly. "You make our house proud."
Millie still looked shocked. "But why this game? Why not save it for something important?"
"What a waste of good blackmail!" Draco called from the end of the bench, looking crabby at being left out of the gossip and stuck talking to just Crabbe and Goyle.
Blaise sat back in his seat and gave a crack of laughter. "Granger! This is somehow all part of Harry's big apology." He shook his head and turned to Harry. "You're crazy, mate. A Gryffindor won't appreciate such a cunning and convoluted plan. She probably won't even realize it was you. I still say you should've gone for the flowers. If you'll wait a few days I'll even buy them from the money I was going to owe Tracey instead. I'd rather give it to you than her."
"No way," Harry frowned and shook his head. "I promised myself I'd apologize to her today. I'm not going back on that no matter what."
Movement on the field below grabbed his attention. Eyes narrowing behind his glasses, Harry pushed Pansy back into her seat so he could see and leaned forward eagerly, watching Madam Pomfrey as she examined Skipper. After a minute she floated over a stretcher, saying something to the hovering Oliver Wood. Harry's breathing quickened.
Draco leaned on Greg's legs to better see Harry's face and let out a loud groan. "Wait, I know that look. The nutter's not done yet. He's got something even more crazy planned. Harry, don't embarrass me!" He pulled out his wand from his robes and pressed the handle against his forehead, closing his eyes as if pained and dramatically collapsing back into his seat. "My father follows these matches. Have some pity!"
Breath coming quickly, Harry stood up and slid his hand into his pocket, casting a slashing look from left to right. "Everyone…now that the moment has come...please remember that you're my friends and you're supposed to support me... just like I try to support you."
Vincent scoffed, his mouth twisting petulantly.
Harry glared at him. "If that's not enough, let me remind you that I'm Valeria's favorite and totally willing to take advantage of that fact."
"This is gonna be so bad," Pansy moaned, pulling out her wand. The rest of his friends quickly followed.
"Why does Harry have to be like this?" someone groused just as Lee Jordan finally started his announcement. Harry was too busy staring at the dark tunnel leading out of the Gryffindor locker room to figure out who.
"Gryffindor Seeker Jonah Skipper is once again too injured to continue—surprise surprise—so Gryffindor is calling up the heroic reserve Seeker who saved them in their last game...Hermione Granger!"
Out of the dark tunnel zipped the girl Harry had been anxiously waiting and hoping to see, the girl at the center of all his scheming. As Hermione started flying a lap around the field, the jeers of Slytherin and Hufflepuff competed with the cheers of Gryffindor.
Harry realized that he needed to stop staring and jump to it. His time had come. Blood surged in his veins and the world went sharp and bright. Reaching into his pocket, Harry pulled out the small flag he'd made to show support for and celebrate his friend—Gryffindor Seeker Hermione Granger. He shook the flag once to unfurl the fabric. Extending his arm up and out over the railing, he cast an Engorgio, making the flag grow until the scarlet and gold fabric was impossible to miss in the sea of green Slytherin scarves and banners.
The stands all around him exploded into movement. Distantly he heard angry and disgusted exclamations, swearing, and incantations. Since nothing hit him, he ignored everything but what he was doing and worked faster. He needed to give Hermione enough time to see the flag before someone made him drop it or cast a spell past him to destroy it.
Completely focused on his task, Harry activated the charms he'd painstakingly worked into the flag over the last month during his every spare moment. Unlike the Hufflepuff boy who he'd stolen the idea from, this wasn't just a simple flag in the Seeker's house colors. That would be almost insulting to a girl as intelligent and complex as Hermione. No, this was an animated billboard aimed directly at the heart of Hermione Granger.
As the first charm activated, a life-sized golden Snitch appeared in the corner of the flag and started flying around the scarlet fabric bordered in gold. In the center of the flag stood a letter H shaped like a bookcase filled with books and a G shaped like a Snitch curving in flight. Each letter was thickly outlined in neon yellow.
The second charm sequence represented the sky where they'd forged their friendship. The yellow outlining the letters shifted from artificial neon to the glow of the horizon in the split second before sunrise. As the sun appeared to rise on the flag the outline thickened. The bright sunlight outlined the HG before sliding into sunset with the blinding yellow fading to orange and red, becoming a diffuse purple that slid to blue and then black. The black spread across the entire flag until only Hermione's initials remained. Glittering stars appeared along with shooting stars and a moon with the wings of a Snitch, only to fade before the fireworks exploded in joyous celebration, trailing corkscrew curls of fire in the shape of her hair. The Snitch dodged through the fireworks and in and out of the letters, reshuffling the books on the bookshelf and making the G spin. As the last of the fireworks faded, the black field lightened back to the original scarlet. Ten seconds passed and then the glow of sunrise outlined the letters all over again.
Raising the flag high, Harry waited for Hermione to look up from flying her lap around the pitch and see it. Would she like it? Would she understand?
Please let her understand; let her understand his apology and accept it.
Hermione flew closer, her brown curls were tied back from her face in two french braids that gleamed in the sun with copper and gold highlights. Unlike the rest of the stadium, the stands at his back were ominously quiet, so quiet that he could hear Hermione's Quidditch leathers creak as she saw the flag and instantly pulled up her broom in front of him. She inhaled audibly when their eyes met for an endless second before the movement of the flag drew her gaze back down.
She mouthed the letters as if doubting her eyesight, "H G." As the charm cycled through colors and animations, tears began filling her warm brown eyes. Her lips curled up until her mouth split open and she was beaming, a huge smile that made her teeth gleam and her eyes sparkle. She laughed and two crystalline tears slid down her pink cheeks.
His stomach cramped. Were those tears good or bad? He wanted to reach out and dry her face, but she was too far away. Then she looked up and their eyes connected with a jolt and it felt like there was no distance between them at all. He found himself smiling back at her helplessly, sharing the joy of the moment.
Distantly he noted the other Quidditch stands getting louder as people craned their necks to get a better look at what was happening. Sound bounced and echoed from tower to tower and over the muddy grass, but somehow Harry and Hermione floated together in a quiet, peaceful, and happy sphere, united as one.
Harry still needed to say the words out loud. It was part of his promise. He had to tell her, I'm sorry...but the moment had stretched too long and thin and the filament connecting their minds and hearts finally broke under the pressure.
Madam Hooch was blowing her whistle and Wood was bellowing at Hermione to get up into position and there just. wasn't. time.
Hermione gave a hard exhale, looked down at the flag he'd made for her one more time, and bit her lip on a crooked smile. Then she rocketed up into the sky, all without a single word being exchanged.
All of the strength left Harry's legs and he collapsed back into his seat, remembering just in time to cast a Sticking Charm on the flagpole so it wouldn't fall off the balcony. He tapped the indents in the shaft that froze the animations in place so they wouldn't distract Hermione while she was searching for the Snitch, a last minute addition. He felt shaky with elation. She'd smiled at him! He still had to say the words, but for the first time in months his future was looking bright.
Gameplay resumed and Harry realized that the stands around him were still suspiciously quiet. Glancing to the side, he saw a red-faced Pansy twisted in her seat and glaring behind them. She held an extra wand in her left hand. Farther down, between a constipated-looking Greg and Vincent, slumped a mortified looking Draco. He'd slid down in his seat and cupped his hand over his forehead as if trying to hide his face from all the spectators. There were two extra wands in his lap.
Looking over confirmed that the other Vipers all had extra wands. They also all had unhappy expressions and all but Draco faced the stands at his back. Biting his lip, Harry twisted to see what was happening and grimaced. Most of the students were spattered with strings of white goo like they'd been sneezed on by a giant with a head cold. The source of the goo was obviously Valeria, who stood against the side of the stands with a terrifying expression on her face and a pile of gooey wands sitting at her feet. This was both better and worse than he'd expected.
Clearing his throat, Harry forced himself to stand up and face everyone. He was going to have to give a speech to try and fix this. As much as he wanted to focus only on Hermione right now, he needed to do a bit of work first if he didn't want his life to become even more hellish going forward. He couldn't finish apologizing or rebuild his friendship with Hermione if he spent the rest of the school year flat on his back in the hospital wing.
People were angry and upset. From the outside his action of planting a huge scarlet and gold flag in the middle of Slytherin territory might look like a betrayal of their House. It wasn't. This wasn't about Slytherin and Gryffindor at all. It was about Harry and Hermione. He wasn't the least bit ashamed of what he'd just done. Harry wasn't a traditional Slytherin, but then again, maybe he didn't have to be. Maybe none of them had to be.
Mind racing over what to say, he reminded himself to use compliments along with shared goals and fears to sway his listeners. He needed to channel Draco at his most cocky, Blaise at his most flattering, and Flint at his most powerful, mixed with a bit of charm and gravitas gleaned from sneakily reading historical romance novels over Pansy's shoulder (they were surprisingly enjoyable but he didn't think his already shaky reputation could withstand that opinion becoming public).
Looking out over the hostile faces, he straightened his shoulders, forced himself to give a small, confident smile, and inclined his head. "Thank you for your support today. It means a lot to me." He ignored the angry and disbelieving looks he received from their goo-splattered faces and gestured to his friends. "You have experienced first-hand the quality and talents of my allies. Like Salazar Slytherin, they are resourceful, cunning, and ambitious, leading by example instead of falling into the tired old roles limiting what a Slytherin is allowed to be and do." He could see Pansy preening from the corner of his eye.
Putting his hands on his hips, Harry leaned forward as if imparting a secret and paused to make sure they were listening, one of Draco's favorite tricks. "Were you shocked today that I was willing to go so far to achieve my goal?" A goal he hadn't technically achieved yet since Hermione hadn't said she forgave him, but there was no reason to admit that to these people, especially when a few heads had cautiously started to look more curious than homicidal. "So was the rest of the school. Keeping them off-balance isn't a bad thing."
He dropped his hands back to his sides, trying to make it look natural. "There are as many paths to power as there are types of power." Flint and Terence had been talking about Quidditch and cheating both on and off the field, but the words from their argument worked equally well in this context with just a little tweaking. "The other houses may have forgotten that, trying to limit us Slytherins to one path and one sterotype, but we don't have to live down to their expectations. There's nothing cunning about doing exactly what's expected. Slytherins shouldn't be cliches." He cast a scathing look at some of the worst of the insular pureblood bullies. "School doesn't last forever, you know. If we don't make friends and allies in other houses as resources, if we don't learn to understand different types of people and points of view so we can work with and lead them effectively, the power we gain here will be flimsy at best and temporary at worst. The lessons and traditions of the past should shape us," he said as a sop to the narrowmindedness of purebloods, "but they aren't meant to confine us. We can be better. We can be more."
Harry was feeling pretty good about his speech until he glanced to the side to see Pansy arch a brow at him and whisper out the corner of her mouth, "What's that got to do with the flag?"
Face going hot, Harry got down off his metaphorical soapbox and cleared his throat, looking around at the stands. "Look, all of this spectacle is because I'm trying to apologize and get my friend back. As you can see, there's almost nothing I wouldn't risk for a friend. By the same token, there's almost nothing I wouldn't risk to take down an enemy. I hope in the days and years to come you will choose to be, if not my friend, then at least a neutral ally. Once again, thank you." Trying to look confident instead of fumbling, he sat back down.
Valeria cast a spell that made the goo melt away before announcing abruptly, "I count myself lucky to be a friend and ally of Harry Potter. I hope the rest of you will take his words to heart. Many of you showed admirable restraint and thoughtfulness today." She looked around and then toed the pile of wands at her feet. "The rest of you who...accidentally...misplaced their wands can collect them from me on the way out with no repercussions. That said, if you tattle about this to a Professor I'll make your life hell." Half the crowd flinched at the look on her face and a few people whimpered.
Walking to the end of Harry's row, Valeria held out her hand expectantly. The Vipers passed down the wands they'd taken from people presumably trying to hex Harry in the back. She tossed them into her pile and smiled at the crowd with a hint of teeth, making several people squeak in fear and someone muffle a sob. "Let's go back to enjoying the game, shall we?"
Harry looked up at the sky to see Hermione and the Hufflepuff Seeker flying on opposite sides of the stadium, still looking for the Snitch. Good. He was glad he hadn't missed her doing something impressive. No one had scored while he'd been distracted with his speech. Like the audience, the players kept casting looks at him and his scarlet flag. Harry tugged his green and silver scarf a little higher on his neck. He didn't like all of the attention now that he was finished saying his piece, even though it was for a good cause.
"Hey Harry, is it easy to turn the movement on that flag on and off?" Blaise asked with a sly look, not seeming to hold a grudge about what had just happened.
Nodding, Harry pointed to the indents on the flagpole. "Yeah, I made it so you just have to tap it here. Why?"
"If they're going to be looking over here anyway, why not use it to distract the players on purpose?"
"Are you suggesting we cheat?"
Blaise looked from left to right with exaggeration before leaning forward and saying loudly, "Yes, Harry, that's exactly what I'm suggesting." He sat back and cocked his head to the side with a smirk. "So?"
"No distracting Hermione," Harry said firmly, "but everyone else?" He shrugged and waved. "Be my guest."
Grinning, Blaise tapped the indent on the flagpole, making the Snitch on the flag zip around the fabric. The Hufflepuff Seeker's head snapping towards them and she dived. Blaise tapped it off again just as the yellow-clad Seeker pulled up sharply in front of the flag. He smirked at her and winked. Flushing red, she scowled and huffed as she realized her mistake.
Hermione looked over sharply and gave a quick smile at seeing the flag (or seeing Harry? Hopefully?) before returning to her search for the Snitch.
"Ooh, give me a try," Pansy said, flipping the animation on and off, on and off. The Gryffindor Chasers got distracted looking over at the flickering in the corners of their eyes and fumbled a pass, allowing Hufflepuff to steal the Quaffle and score. "Why haven't we ever tried something like this before? We should do this again next game," she said with relish.
Millie grinned evilly and leaned forward to be heard over the laughter and jeering behind them. "Definitely. Hooch might try to make flashing animations illegal, so we should work on how to get around that if it happens. Maybe even work something into the player's robes. I have some ideas."
Flashing a thumbs up, Pansy went back to toggling the animations, sending out shiny little bubbles from her wand tip every time Hufflepuff got the Quaffle close to Keeper Oliver Wood. "C'mon, Wood. Look at the pretty little flag and the bubbles. Screw up a catch."
Reaching the limits of his temper, Oliver Wood glared over at Pansy with his teeth bared in an angry grimace just as a Hufflepuff Chaser slid up from below, caught the Quaffle thrown by her teammate, and sent it sailing behind Wood into the hoop. Spinning to see what had happened, Wood's face went as scarlet as his uniform. He shook his fist at both Hufflepuff and Slytherin, swearing up a storm as his broom jerked back and forth in rage. Gryffindor was now trailing Hufflepuff by more than sixty points.
"Look at him go!" Blaise crowed as the rest of them laughed, including Harry, who still bitterly remembered the large bruise on his side and back from their last game when Wood had moved into Harry's path and stopped, making Harry slam into Wood's broom handle. Since only Harry had been moving when the collision happened, it wasn't technically a foul. Accidents happened, but the smug look and suggestion that Harry leave Quidditch to his elders and run back home for his pacifier had made it clear that what happened had been on purpose.
Someone tapped Harry on the shoulder. Looking back, he saw Reyansh Ahuja leaning down from two rows up. Harry was instantly on his guard. "Can I have a go with that flag, Potter? I'm bored and rather dislike the Hufflepuff Seeker," the Prefect said. Lips thinning, Ahuja sent a dark look in the Seeker's direction before turning back to Harry and arching his brow. There was a ripple of suppressed interest as the nearby students observed the interaction. Ahuja had a lot of power and influence in Slytherin.
Shocked, Harry blinked at him for several seconds before responding. "Um—ah, sure! Just make sure it's off when Hermione's looking this way but otherwise… go wild, Ahuja."
The Prefect inclined his head with a slight smile, his dark eyes gleaming. "Thank you. You're ambitious and interesting. You may call me Reyansh. I like not being bored."
"Great. Call me Harry." Dazed, Harry cancelled the Sticking Charm, passed back the flag, and showed him how it worked. It was both exciting and slightly surreal to see a pureblood Slytherin Prefect like Reyansh Ahuja, someone who could trace his ancestry back to royal court wizards in India, waving a flag for a muggleborn witch in Gryffindor, even if it was to get back at a Hufflepuff.
Reyansh did manage to distract the Seeker he disliked enough to make her dive at the flag again. She was so angry she refused to even look at the Slytherin tower anymore. Huffing and muttering under her breath, she moved to the other side of the stadium in a huff.
Thus she completely missed the Snitch when it came to hover above them as if curious to see the flag for itself.
"Your turn, I think." Chuckling, Reyansh tossed the flag back to Harry, who turned on all of the animations and waved the flag back and forth wildly to get Hermione's attention. As soon as she looked over he turned the light show off and pointed towards the Snitch desperately, hoping it would be enough.
It was.
Grinning, Hermione sped towards them, swerving around a Bludger hit by a Hufflepuff Beater and following the twisty path of the Snitch. The Hufflepuff Seeker realized what was happening too late, turning to join the chase from the other side of the pitch. Hermione flattened herself to her broom and tucked her feet back against the bristles—a position Harry had taught her back in September to pick up more speed. She corkscrewed into a dive, pulling up sharply as the Snitch broke left and up. Throat tight, Harry watched Hermione's hand snap out—fast as a snake—and close around the Golden Snitch.
She'd done it! Harry cheered and waved his flag. The people around him grumbled but didn't boo or cheer. He was too Slytherin to really be happy about Gryffindor winning, but this wasn't about Gryffindor. It was about Hermione and being happy for his friend. The fact that she turned to look at him before anyone else to wave the Snitch in her hand and share a smile had his stomach doing cartwheels and a big grin stretching his cheeks. They were forced to break eye contact when her team piled on top of her in celebration, laughing and screaming.
Harry wished he could join her on the field, but he didn't trust her teammates to be sympathetic to his cause. Oliver Wood for one would probably go for his wand the next time Harry crossed his path and he wasn't so sure if the Weasley twins were still happy about their bargain considering how Slytherin had used the flag to purposely distract their players from scoring. Then again, it had led to the Hufflepuff Seeker getting distracted and Hermione winning the game, so really, they should be thanking him.
Sighing impatiently, he shrunk the flag back down to its original size and tucked it into his pocket, turning and leaving the stands with his friends, making sure to quietly thank Valeria on his way out. At least he now felt fairly confident that Hermione would be willing to listen to his apology. His plan was almost finished, he just had to say the words. He kept reciting the apology in his mind, determined to say it perfectly without a single stutter. Hermione deserved perfect.
-oo0oo-
Harry ate his lunch slowly, head popping up every time a Gryffindor came into the Great Hall only to slouch down again when it wasn't the girl he hoped to see. The freshly showered Gryffindor Quidditch team trickled in by twos and threes, but still no Hermione.
Finally Harry couldn't take it anymore and stood up abruptly. "Maybe she ran back to the library. I'm going to go and check."
Draco stared up at him before abruptly announcing, "We'll come along."
"We will?" Blaise's brows went up as he glanced between Draco and Harry. "Sure, as moral support and witnesses."
"Or something," Draco said, looking away, as if not wanting to be caught out caring.
Squaring his shoulders, Harry swallowed. "That's fine." The wait had made him nervous all over again. He appreciated the support.
They'd just reached the staircase leading up to the library when Harry heard the whispers. His blood turned to ice as that familiar voice of rust and bitter cold slithered into his ears, just barely loud enough for him to make out the words. "Come…Let me kill you….Let me—" the voice cut off abruptly before resuming with what sounded like excitement, "baby queen?"
Harry's stomach dropped. Excited had to be bad. "I hear that voice again; we have to stop it!" He sprinted up the stairs only to jerk to a stop and swear under his breath as the staircase began slowly swinging to a new position. "C'mon c'mon c'mon," Harry chanted, trying to force the stairs to move faster.
"You mean you're hearing Slytherin's creature?" Blaise glanced from side to side and shifted from foot to foot. "I don't hear anything. Are you sure?"
"Harry, no!" Draco looked pale and almost guilty as he grabbed Harry's arm. "Bad idea. Remember what happened last time with Filch?"
"Then stay behind," Harry bit out, shaking off Draco's hand. He focused on the other side of the staircase as it slowly slid closer. It was taking forever. He tried to figure out if he could jump the gap and realized it was still too far, especially since he had to jump up instead of down. If he missed he'd break his leg or skull and become useless.
The creepy voice started crooning, a horrible sound that made Harry swallow down an involuntary whimper. Goosebumps popped up all over his skin. "My baby queen...sleeping baby queen...wake up baby...wake up...kill with me...mine…."
The voice faded away just as the staircase finally connected. Harry bounded up to the next floor and looked around wildly. Without the voice, he didn't know which way to go. When the screams started, Harry's heart dropped.
He was too late.
AN: Sometime in the next week or so this will probably be edited for any errors I missed.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everybody! I'm so excited for the next few chapters. Whee! Awesome things are definitely coming. We finally get to start exploring the secrets in Hermione's bloodline (what I thought this story would be about until the Slytherins tricked me with Quidditch and completely hijacked it). Also, I'm so glad to finally have Harry's apology starting. I had to make this chapter huge to fit it all in, so I hope you enjoyed it. The scene with Myrtle wasn't planned, but I'm really glad she decided to be a bigger figure in this story. Writing it made me tear up. You haven't seen the last of her. I'm also having fun with how the Weasleys relate to Harry differently because he's a Slytherin, but also how they are still fundamentally good people even if they can also be jerks. I'd love to hear what you think of the characters and events too. Thank you for reading and commenting!
