AN: Happy March everyone! Did you guys hear that new song from Linkin Park called Lost? It made me so nostalgic for the 2000s. I had all their CDs back in the day and loved to blare them while singing along in my car.

Here's another chapter for you. Thank you for all of your patience and I really hope you enjoy it! I had to completely rewrite this when the 6000-word chapter I wrote went to an interesting but completely OC place that I couldn't fix despite weeks of trying to edit it. Sigh. So I scrapped it and gave you a new set of scenes ending with Hermione swooping in to have her say, because Hermione can fix just about anything, right? Right. No Beta again, sorry. I hope you enjoy it!


Whispers in Her Hair

by Indygodusk


Chapter 22: Second Year - Everyone Goes (Quidditch) Mad


Harry looked at the clock and gulped. He had less than thirty minutes before he had to be outside by the broom shed to go flying with Hermione. His stomach felt filled with bubbles. He was going flying with Hermione again. Everything was good again. No, everything was better than good, it was great! He was going flying with Hermione. The bubbles filled his chest and turned to fizz, zipping from fingertip to toe. Rubbing his chest, he smiled to himself. He couldn't help but keep repeating the happy thought: he was going flying with Hermione!

Falling into a daydream, Harry couldn't help but picture their evening: the two of them up alone together in the sky flying side by side with their bodies picturesquely silhouetted by the setting sun, which turned Hermione's curls into strands of melting caramel…or molten gold. His daydream stuttered over the comparison. Seeing caramel usually made Harry happier because it was sweet and he liked eating it, but he wouldn't eat Hermione's hair (though she was sweet), and molten gold was probably a better description to capture the movement of her hair and how it gleamed with beauty and warm, just like Hermione herself. However, treacle tart had a caramel-flavored filling and was his favorite food in the entire world, just like Hermione was his favorite person in the entire world, so maybe her hair could look like caramel and it would be fine?

Whatever, it was Harry's daydream. Hermione's hair could be like both caramel and gold as they flew in the sky together with lots of smiling and laughing together. Hermione would clap and look really impressed as Harry showed off the new skills he'd learned since they'd last flown together. Flint's training was harsh (compared to other teams, though not to Valeria) and very effective at forcing you to improve. He'd have to be careful not to show Hermione any secret team maneuvers, but there was still a lot they could do together up in the sky. He could even summarize all of the stuff she'd missed with both classwork and school gossip while she'd been gone.

It was going to be great!

"Merlin's beard, Harry, you disgust me," Draco said without looking up from his Quidditch magazine. He'd folded it over to an article called, "Pro Chasers share flying tips to make other players scream. (Just don't get caught!)" Half of the page looked like it was in French. Harry tried to read it upside down, but he wasn't very good at French. "Stop staring off into space drooling and finish getting dressed," Draco said testily.

Blinking, Harry looked between Draco and the clock and realized he'd lost five minutes to daydreaming. His robe was still dangling off the bedpost where he'd thrown it when he changed into a new shirt and got stuck deciding on a tie, trying to find one without too many stains or loose threads. Hermione deserved his best effort. He couldn't show up looking too ugly. He'd narrowed the ties down to two and he had to leave in the next few minutes or he was going to be late for his date, his study date, his study meeting with his girl—his female friend who just happened to be an attractive girl who gave great hugs and had amazing curly hair but that had nothing to do with anything and they were just friends who'd just repaired their friendship, which was great, so he wasn't going to be weird or do anything to make her regret letting him back into her life. As a friend. Which was just fine.

(For now. It was fine, he was fine. Really.)

And why was Harry arguing with himself and freaking out inside his head instead of leaving his stinky dorm room to go outside into the fresh air of Scottish spring where Hermione would soon be waiting for him? Because he couldn't decide on a tie. They were both ugly. Harry didn't want to look ugly. Not like at dinner—stupid Lavender with her stupid kissy face attack. He'd taken a potion for his nose so it was thankfully back to a normal color and size at least. Looking in the mirror, he confirmed that his nose looked fine.

His hair was another matter. Did he have time for more Sleekeazy's Hair Potion? Why hadn't he gotten a haircut this morning? And was that smell the usual boy's dorm room sweaty stench or was it him in particular? When was the last time he showered?

Oh no, he was out of time.

He needed to finish getting dressed and get going. This was going to be a disaster. He needed a fashion expert like Blaise or Pansy, but the only other person in the room right now was Draco. Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek. This was for Hermione, he reminded himself. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Harry took a deep breath and said in as even a tone as he could manage, "Draco, I know we're not really talking right now and I wouldn't ask except this is really serious. I'm in trouble and I need your help."

Looking up from his sprawl across his bed, Draco let the magazine in his hands drop. "Why? Are you dying?" His voice sounded strange. Harry couldn't tell if it was worry or hope.

Did he look like he was dying? That had to be unattractive. Oh no. "Please, Draco," Harry said, fisting the untucked hem of his shirt in his hands and trying not to hyperventilate.

Sighing hard through his nose, Draco sat up and turned to face Harry. "Fine, what is it?"

Harry pressed his lips tight together and nodded earnestly. "Thank you." Then he held out his two best ties. "Which one of these is less disgusting? I'm going flying with Hermione in twenty minutes."

A muscle above Draco's eye started to twitch. "Really?"

"Yes!" Harry shoved the ties closer to Draco's face.

Batting them out of his way with a sneer, Draco rolled to his feet. "They're both disgusting, just like you."

"Nevermind," Harry muttered, shoulders curling down. Turning away, he dropped both ties onto his bed. Maybe he should just wear his longest scarf and tuck it so you couldn't see the missing tie, though if Snape caught him outside the common room without a Slytherin tie he'd get in trouble, despite it being after hours. Snape always punished Harry when he was out of uniform. Always.

"Don't pout like a baby," Draco said. "Here." A crisp, clean tie was tossed over Harry's shoulder. The fabric felt expensive and slick between his fingers and was probably worth more than the rest of Harry's clothing combined.

"Thanks, Draco!"

"Don't mention it."

The minute hand ticked over. Harry was going to have to run if he wanted to make it on time. Sliding the green and silver tie around his neck, Harry quickly knotted it into place. Draco deserved some positive reinforcement for saving him like this. "Seriously, thanks." Harry barely bit back, I owe you one. That was a dangerous thing to offer another Slytherin. Instead he said, "You're a good friend. I really appreciate it."

"I said don't mention it," Draco grumbled half-heartedly, flopping back onto his bed with pink cheeks and sticking his face into his magazine to avoid eye contact as Harry trotted past with one arm in a robe sleeve and the other searching for down his back for the other lost sleeve. Draco's foot swung clumsily through the air, bumping his side table and causing the precarious stack of unopened sweet boxes from his mother to tip over and clatter across the floor. Draco's shoulders went tight, but he didn't move to clean them up.

Harry realized that Draco hadn't opened up and boasted about getting special treats in days, maybe weeks. When had he stopped even opening up the boxes? From where Harry was standing, Draco's face looked too pale. Was it thinner than usual too? His face had always been a bit sharp, but had he been eating enough lately?

Stopping long enough to find his other sleeve, Harry shoved his arm into it and buttoned his robe. He hesitated for a moment before saying, "If you get hungry while reading, you can have any of the snacks in my bottom drawer. I've got some of those biscuits you like and some oranges hidden under my clean socks."

Draco darted him a quick look from the corner of his eye before turning back to his reading with a grunt.

Harry had to go. Draco would be fine for now. Maybe Harry could get Greg and Pansy to team up with him to help fatten Draco up. He had to laugh at the image popping into his head of Draco as round as a ball being rolled to class by Crabbe and Goyle. Draco gave him a sideways look like he was questioning Harry's sanity. Snickering to himself, Harry rushed out of the room.

Before he could get very far he ran into Dulcina and Artemis out in the hall. "Whoa, slow down," said Dulcina as he bounced off of her.

"Sorry!" he said.

"Where are you in such a rush?" She pulled her robe straight from where he'd accidentally twisted it. "You better be careful, tempers are running high right now and we can't afford for you to be injured during the upcoming game. Some people are just looking for an excuse to start a fight."

"She's right," Artemis said. "Something big and important is about to happen. I can feel it. You're going to miss it if you aren't careful."

More important than going flying with Hermione? Not possible. "Catch me up later then," Harry called over his shoulder, already moving past them. He raced out of the common room and up the stairs to the main floor.

He was running late!

As he left the stairwell and made his way toward the atrium, Harry was surprised to find it full of students. Even the staircases were busy. Pausing, he noticed two strange, shambling figures supporting each other as they limped in the direction of the infirmary. It took him twisting his head to the side and squinting through his glasses to recognize Slytherin students Adriana and Macy, the girls who'd insulted Valeria at dinner. They looked like statues found in a shipwreck on the bottom of the ocean, all covered in algae, coral, and barnacles, with attached sea mussels, urchins, and crabs. Their tangled hair and clothing floated around their bodies like they were actually underwater, though they didn't seem to be having any trouble breathing despite the growth even covering most of their skin, including their faces. Adriana, who'd been the worst offender against Valeria, sported more growths and scuttling creatures than Macy and left a trail of murky-looking slime across the floor. Something with eight spindly legs and claws crawled across the back of Adriana's shoulder onto Macy's where their bodies touched before burrowing into the mass of Macy's hair and disappearing from view.

Shuddering, Harry quickly looked away and plunged into the crowds separating him from the door outside to where Hermione waited. He was in a rush and did his best to ignore the voices calling his name on all sides. The friendlier greetings ranged from a simple "Hi, Harry!" and "Looking sharp!" to "Hey, Potter, can't wait to see you play again!" On the opposite spectrum were the, "Hey, Potter, you stink!" and "You suck as a Seeker!"

From the corner, someone shouted out, "Quidditch Captain fight!"

Turning, Harry saw two figures in white shirtsleeves grappling in a circle of cheering spectators, mostly in Gryffindor red and Slytherin green. The Professors were nowhere to be seen, not that anyone in this crowd wanted the fight broken up. Harry paused for a moment to watch Flint and Wood rolling around on the floor brawling noisily—each seemingly hexed to make animal noises and train sounds, respectively. Without the ability to speak spells, they were limited to either casting extremely difficult and advanced wordless magic or falling back to punching and kicking. Obviously, they'd chosen the physical route. Nobody seemed too distressed by that either.

Unable to help himself, Harry stopped for a few moments next to Miles and Terrance to join the crowd in cheering his friend and Captain on. "Go-oo, Flint!"

"Hey, Harry," Miles said with a quick smile.

"Hey," Harry said. "What started all this?" He nodded at the fighting Captains.

"Well," Terrence said slowly as he and Miles exchanged looks, "not that Flint doesn't love any excuse to fight, but he was goaded into it by William." When Harry looked at him blankly (there were a lot of Williams at Hogwarts) he clarified, "William Manic."

Brow furrowing, Harry cocked his head to the side, "I thought Flint and Manic didn't get along?"

"They don't," Miles said, sounding suspicious.

In the open circle, Wood punched Flint in the mouth, making his head snap back. "Ohhh," the Slytherins all said, wincing in sympathy.

Terrence shook his head and looked around. "Manic's a sadistic brute, but a cunning one. He's up to something, mark my words. Right after he set off tempers, he disappeared."

"It's suspicious," Miles nodded and then threw up his hands when Wood jumped on Flint's back. "Oh come on, mate!"

Terrence cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Stop letting him hit you, you idiot!"

"Ook-ook! Eeek-aak-eek!" shrieked Flint like a monkey—obviously enjoying himself—as he spun in a circle with teeth bared and bloody from a split lip, throwing Wood off his back and through the air. Wood hit the ground and rolled to a stop against the legs of the crowd.

Pulling Wood back to his feet, the crowd brushed him off and pushed him back into the fight. Wood took a single step and then stopped, turned his head sideways, and shook it vigorously, making his hair stand up on his head in spikes. A glistening pink worm wiggled halfway out of his ear. Pinching it in two fingers, Wood yanked it out the rest of the way with a grimace, gave a piercing train whistle scream that made half the crowd flinch, and threw it in Flint's direction.

Sneering, Flint leaned his head to the side with a, "Hee-haw," easily dodging it. Instead, the worm hit the girl behind him, who started to shriek and hop around as the worm slid inside the open collar of her shirt.

Gross. Funny, but gross. Harry snickered.

Wood wiped a hand over his ear, smearing a line of slime across his cheek, and charged at Flint with arms outstretched, bellowing, "Chugga-chugga choo-choo!" Ducking under Flint's arm bar, Wood grabbed Flint around the waist and tried to throw him down. Flint staggered but kept his feet, trumpeting like an elephant, "Bahruuuhhaaa," as he elbowed Wood in the back as they grappled for dominance. Wood punched him in the side once, twice, three times, "Chugga chugga chugga." Flinching, Flint whinnied like an injured horse before rearing back with his hands clenched together overhead and then hammering his fists down on Wood's back.

Over the sound of their fighting, the clock tower began tolling the hour.

Oh no! Harry really was late now, he had to go. Flint didn't need or want Harry's help with this fight. He'd be fine and if that changed, there were other Slytherins in the crowd who'd help him out. Though Flint would definitely win the fight. It was Flint!

Then Wood punched the back of Flint's thigh, making Flint's leg collapse. Worried, Harry wondered if his confidence had been misplaced as Flint fell to the floor with Wood on top of him. Wood slammed a punch into Flint's jaw, making Flint's face snap to the side and his eyelids flutter. The crowd gasped. Harry's stomach lurched.

However, before the Gryffindor could pin him, Flint rocked and contorted his body, swinging his legs up viper-fast to wrap one leg around Wood's arm while putting his ankle underneath Wood's neck, squeezing the other boy into the awkward position. Flint pulled on Wood's neck. It looked painful. Wood's expression contorted and his face went bright red as his arms and legs spun and flailed uselessly. Seemingly unable to defend himself or get free, Wood's struggles slowed. He opened his mouth with a shriek of metal brakes on metal rails. He was going to tap out, Harry could see Wood's body go limp, trembling fingers reaching out to—

"Mee-ooow!" Somehow the sound of Filch's Mrs. Norris was audible even over the screaming crowd.

"Filch is coming!"

"Hide!"

"Filch!"

"Get out!"

Flint released Wood and the two fighters sprung apart like similarly charged magnets. Friends surged forward to grab Flint and Wood and help then duck away down staircases and into side halls before they could be discovered. United, the crowd of Gryffindors and Slytherins shifted to block their escape and broke into small groups of innocent-seeming students working on school assignments, comparing Gobstone sets, and discussing who in the school had the best broom at the top of their lungs.

Filch appeared at the top of a staircase landing next to Mrs. Norris and sneered down at all of them. "What's goin' on down 'ere, then? What's with all the racket? Quiet down!" The room went silent. Filch pursed his lips. "Makin' mischief are you? Lookin' for some detention with meself and Mrs. Norris?" Filch's narrow eyes darted around the room from group to group. "I know she's missed hearing your screams." He gave a nasty, yellow-toothed sneer.

Gulping, Harry shifted behind a taller Hufflepuff to hide. If Filch grabbed him he'd never get outside to meet Hermione.

From out of the shadows behind Filch floated a Snitch. It fluttered to a stop in front of Mrs. Norris—who snapped to attention, tail and ears quivering—before zipping away down the hall towards Myrtle's no longer haunted bathroom. "Mrrrear!" the cat cried, darting off after the Snitch.

"Mrs. Norris! Stop!" Filch cried, forgetting the students and running after her, disappearing around a corner. A few people cheered, the rest released a collective sigh, and the noise of the crowd returned.

People started leaving the atrium, but all the movement just made it harder to get to the doors leading outside. Harry skirted around the edge of the room as he tried to move faster. Hermione had to be waiting by now. His gaze kept getting caught by the fluttering of the Snitch before it would zip away and he'd lose it, only to see if from the corner of his eye again, until he realized that it was actually at least three different Snitches buzzing around the room and under and over the moving staircases. They'd probably been released by Quidditch enthusiasts too unskilled to easily catch them again. It had happened before. He just wished he didn't feel the need to pay attention to all of them and want to chase after them like Mrs. Norris.

Sighing, Harry tilted his head back and looked up just in time to see one of the Snitches dive-bomb his face, forcing him to duck and jump aside or risk losing an eye or reinjuring his nose. He couldn't risk another swollen nose if he was about to see Hermione. In his enthusiasm to escape, he accidentally slammed into someone. "Sorry!" he said to the boy he'd almost knocked over, only noticing after he'd spoken that it was Ron Weasley. "Sorry, Weasley."

"Potter!" Ron spun away from the huddle of his roommates, eyes wild and showing too much white and face bright red as he grabbed Harry by the shoulders and pulled him close, shaking him roughly. "Quidditch is back on, Potter. Quidditch!"

"Yeah, I know and it's great, but seriously," Harry leaned back from Ron's tight grip and garlic breath, "let go of me."

"Quidditch!" Ron bellowed, loud enough to be heard by half the crowd.

Behind Ron, his friends threw up their arms and screamed, "Quidditch!" without even looking away from whatever they were doing.

"We're going to win our game," Ron said fervently, shaking Harry harder, making his teeth rattle. "Gryffindor's getting the House Cup this year, you'll see! You stinky snakes are losing! You're going down!"

"Don't bet on it," Harry snapped as he poked Ron in the belly with his wand and cast a CAG jinx before shoving the redhead away. "You're the one who's going to stink because Slytherins always win!"

"Aw troll dung!" Ron started to pull out his wand, only to stop with a grimace and curl the arm around his waist. Groaning, he bent over. Seconds later a loud and repugnant fart ripped from his pants, "PPPpphhttttttttttt!"

Harry clapped a hand over his face and staggered back, trying to escape the stench.

"Ugh, Ron! Gross!" Dean Thomas reeled away from behind Ron with his nose pinched shut.

Seamus Finnegan gave a choking laugh even as his eyes started to water. "You're exiled from our room tonight, mate! Stay away until you're fixed."

"No way!" Ron let loose another juicy fart. "Ppabbbspspstht!" Everyone nearby shrieked and scattered.

"You're totally sleeping in the common room! You smell rank!" Dean said in a nasally voice, nose still pinched shut.

"It's Potter's fault and you're the rank one! I'm gonna fart on your face!" Ron cried, turning his bum in Dean's direction and charging backward at his roommate. PPpphhbbbbbbbbbtttttt!

Coughing and waving a hand in front of his face, Harry quickly escaped in the opposite direction, only to get trapped between a statue and an older boy stepping into his path. "Hey Harry, what's your prediction for the Quidditch season?" It was the sketchy Ravenclaw who'd tried to sell the Slytherin table personalized buttons earlier at dinner. Scratching the mole on his face with the back of his quill, the older boy crowded Harry. "Or I'll take a quote I can sell to the papers?"

"Not interested," Harry said, trying to get around him but hemmed in by too many students.

"Fine, fine," the other boy grumbled, his lips twisting, "but you have to give me something, kid. If it's not a quote, that means you have to give me money for a bet, so pay up. How much should I put you down for and what team?"

Before Harry could respond, a Hufflepuff girl with a short cap of reddish-brown curls and a hooked nose rammed into the older boy with a snarl. "You can take your bets and shove them up your nose! Ravenclaw is gonna lose, that's Potter's quote! This is my turf, so get lost or me and my people will make you regret it!" She whacked the spiky-haired boy over the head with a scroll just as two more angry Hufflepuffs appeared at her back and pulled their wands at the Ravenclaw. "You want us to break your kneecaps and replace them with jelly beans? Huh?"

They seemed to have forgotten him, so Harry darted past them, pushed his way through a group of first-years—ignoring any calls of his name—and burst out the front doors. Once in the open air he broke into a run. Unfortunately, the pathways were also crowded, forcing him to slow to a fast walk. He'd not be getting the secluded sunset meet-up with Hermione he'd hoped for. Instead, he found the ground and air swarming with Quidditch enthusiasts fired up from the season being restored. It was just as busy and crowded outside as it had been inside.

Life just wasn't fair sometimes.

Dodging around a group of girls moving as slow as molasses, Harry heard his name called by a familiar voice. Turning with a smile and an apology on his lips for being late, thinking it was Hermione, he instead found himself face to face with Lavender. The smile slid off his face like hands off a greased pole.

His irritation with Lavender had been building for a while. Not only was she pushy, but she'd tried to steal his first kiss—well technically his second kiss, but since he'd been dying painfully and more than half-convinced he was hallucinating during that first one, he decided to give himself a first kiss (part two) where he wasn't half-dead and could actually appreciate it. He really liked the idea of being awake enough to appreciate Hermione's lips. One day. When—if—they ever became more than just friends. If that happened, if she was okay with dating and kissing, he'd take her somewhere super romantic, and make sure to cast a tooth cleaning charm so his mouth smelled nice, and then—and then just like in the movies he'd take her in his arms and the music would swell and it would be perfect and he'd kiss her and it would be great…really really great….

And….

Lavender was staring at him.

Why? What had he been thinking about again? Oh right, Lavender was irritating! She listened to less than half of what Harry said, ignored or purposely misunderstood anything she didn't like, and kept trying to touch him. She did not have touching privileges! Not only had she tried to steal his first kiss (part two), but she'd also given him an ugly swollen red nose that hurt, caused mockery from other Slytherins, and made him look stupid during his reunion with Hermione. Why couldn't Lavender just leave him alone? Why couldn't she accept just being cordial but distant acquaintances? Allies of convenience?

"Hi, Harry! I'm glad your nosey-wosey is all better!" Lavender giggled shrilly, not reacting to his recoil and horrified expression. "I'll go slower the next time we kissy-wissy." Blushing, she giggled again and reached out to touch him.

Harry jumped back out of reach, shaking his head. "Yeah, no. Never gonna happen. Don't touch me." His Slytherin practicality and cunning reminded himself to be polite since they were in public and she could still be a resource for the future. That had probably been too blunt. He added a begrudging, "Please."

She just blinked at him.

He didn't want to make her an enemy or damage his reputation, at least not at this point in time, not without a good reason, something strategic and not just that he found her unexpectedly clingy, annoying, and dim-witted. He should be practical and not burn a bridge by accident. Good Slytherins should only burn bridges on purpose and with maximum damage and minimal effort. "Thank you, but I'm not interested," he said with all of the diplomacy he could muster.

Ignoring everything he'd just said, Lavender followed his retreat. "My silly Harry-Warry, Har-Har, Ri-Ri," she cooed and smiled indulgently at him. "Guess what? Now that Colin's back, he's taking photos again! We should get one and send it to the paper to publish. We look so cute together! The perfect couple!" Giggling, she tried to slide both of her arms around him where he'd frozen in horror at her nicknames.

Before she could tighten her grip, Harry jerked himself loose and jumped away. What was with the grabby Gryffindors today? He only wanted to be grabbed by one Gryffindor and that wasn't Ron or Lavender!

"No, I'm not interested in that," he said loudly. He didn't want to have to hex her, but he was getting perilously close. "Seriously, Lavender, stop touching me. I don't like it!"

Stamping one foot in frustration, Lavender's lower lip wobbled. "Just hold still! I'll make you like it."

Frustrated, upset, and uncomfortable, Harry kept moving back, wishing she'd stop and listen. This was not how he wanted his evening to go. He didn't want to hurt her, he just wanted her to go away. "Look, that's not gonna happen. I'm here to meet someone else, so stop following me," he said firmly.

A Snitch fluttered past his nose and Harry's hand snapped up, grabbing it on instinct. It fluttered within his grip, wings scraping against his wand and broom calluses. Huffing, Harry tossed it to the side. The Snitch zipped down through the legs of several students and disappeared. He wished he could rid himself of Lavender just as easily.

Lavender crossed her arms and pouted as she followed him. "C'mon, don't be like that, Har-Har-Ri-Ri." They passed Colin Creevy with his camera taking a picture of someone in a handstand, tie hanging down over their face. A strange gleam formed in Lavender's eyes and she licked her lips. "Everyone knows you like me. You don't have to keep pretending. Just kiss me already." She pursed her lips and leaned towards him.

"What? No!" Face screwing up, Harry put on a burst of speed, pushing past the groups of students watching them with amusement. Running away from a girl was going to damage his reputation, but he wasn't sure he cared. "I don't like you! Leave me alone!"

Lavender tossed her hair over her shoulder, still keeping pace, though her smile had gone tight. "Don't be silly, Harry. I know you don't mean that, you're just shy. I'm a great catch and you need to think about your reputation going forward. We're a picture perfect couple." She huffed and crossed her arms. "Is this about her?" She rolled her eyes and said with a sneer, "Because everyone knows that Hermione isn't—"

"Hey!" Harry snapped, jerking to a stop and turning to face her. His hand dropped to his wand as he stepped towards Lavender for the first time since she'd started following him. "Don't you dare bad-mouth—"

"Hermione. Isn't. What?" interrupted Hermione in a voice of poisoned silk as she stalked over to stand by Harry's side.

For the first time, Lavender hesitated, closing her mouth and visibly swallowing.

"Isn't fun? Isn't worth it? Isn't stable?" Lavender paled at the look on Hermione's face and took a big step back, allowing Hermione to slide protectively in front of Harry in a sinuous movement that sent the strands of her earrings swaying, sending a descant song through the air along with a soft, ominous hiss that could be metal sliding against metal or could be something much more sinister. The air practically crackled with tension and building magic. Hermione looked otherworldly and magnificent. Harry's mouth fell open. Wow.

Abruptly Harry became aware of the people who'd paused to watch. It made him think about his Slytherin status and reputation. Right. Crossing his arms and closing his mouth, he tried to look cool, calm, and unaffected. Luckily he had such a good poker face, right? Losing so often to Pansy and Milicent meant nothing, those girls were freaks of nature when it came to bluffing. He was sure he was mysterious and inscrutable to most of his peers.

In fact, no one watching should be able to guess how crazy he was over Hermione. His secret was safe. After all, he hadn't done anything that unusual for Hermione that anyone else wouldn't have done for a classmate and casual acquaintance, right? Right. (He ignored the specter of Blaise in his head rolling around on the floor laughing at him hysterically.) He was fine. His reputation as a Slytherin was fine. It was fine.

Could Harry get away with shooing people away? After all, there was nothing special happening over here, just two roommates squabbling. Harry was mostly a bystander himself, watching it all as cool as a cucumber. Yep, everyone probably assumed he was just an ambitious and ruthless Slytherin, manipulating and extorting Hermione Granger for her homework skills after he'd saved her life and nothing else. They were only meeting up now because he was trying to call in the debt and use her to improve his grades (by catching her up on what she'd missed, but if anyone asked it was only so she could help him out later, of course). No one could possibly guess how he really felt about her. He was totally safe and totally subtle.

Harry couldn't see Hermione's expression from this angle, just her squared shoulders, coiled muscles, and barely contained curls. He was doing a great job of controlling his expression until Hermione's voice abruptly flipped from dangerously gentle to diamond hard and sharp. "Perhaps you were going to say, Hermione isn't going to put up with you ignoring Harry when he tells you no?"

Lavender flinched and squeaked, hopefully hiding how Harry's breath caught. He bit his lip, cheeks going hot.

"Because you're right about that," Hermione said.

Lavender looked sick. She stumbled back another step and Hermione perfectly matched her movements, keeping herself between Lavender and Harry. With each step forward, Hermione's hair seemed to grow in size, the coils of her hair uncurling and lengthening in a hypnotizing threat display.

Hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, Harry swallowed to wet his dry throat. Hermione was obviously protecting him. It wasn't necessary. This wasn't a huge fall or a falling pillar, not even a bully hungry for his blood, tears, and humiliation. It was just harmless Lavender. It wasn't even that big of a deal. Harry should step forward too, should stand up for himself instead of letting Hermione take care of it, instead of letting Hermione take care of him.

Harry didn't.

The way Hermione moved and spoke mesmerized him. He didn't want to blink for fear he'd miss something. His face burned hot, his heart pounded, and his belly squirmed. Being protected didn't make him feel weak. It made him feel…it made him feel…. Harry didn't have the words to define his emotions. They were too rare and too precious. After spending most of his life with no one taking his side or caring about him, the feeling of being protected still felt special, almost sacred. It would never get old. Never.

Lavender tripped over a rock and almost fell down, barely catching herself from falling. Hermione gracefully stalked after her, something slinky and animalistic in her gait. "Well, Lavender? Is that what you were going to say about me to Harry?"

"No! No, wait, that's—that's not what I—" Lavender sputtered.

Hermione paused and tilted her head to the side. "Hmm. Perhaps it was, Hermione isn't going to put up with your disrespect and insults?"

"No, I—I didn't mean to—"

"Your lies?"

"No! I—I didn't—I—I was confused!" Lavender's back hit a tree, halting her retreat. She sucked her breath and bit her trembling lower lip. "I made a mistake, okay?" she said in a small voice.

"Is it okay that you made a mistake? That you hurt Harry and ignored his wishes?"

Eyes narrowing as she found a spark of Gryffindor bravery, Lavender opened her mouth to defend herself.

Hermione cut her off before she could do more than draw in a breath to speak. "No," Hermione snapped, two fingers darting out like striking fangs to poke Lavender in the chest, hard enough to make Lavender flinch and give up on fighting back. "No, that's not okay. You did make a mistake, Lavender, a bad one. I can forgive it when you hurt or ignore me, but nobody gets to hurt my friends, especially not Harry. Nobody."

The heat coming off of Harry's face burned hotter than Fiendfyre. He felt faint. Hermione was just so—so…wow. Wow. Harry still didn't have the words. He wished Colin Creevy wasn't so distracted. He'd pay good money and several shady favors for a picture of her at this exact moment so he could keep it forever.

Hermione loomed over a cowering Lavender and—voice sounding like a demonic legion—hissed, "Sssay ssorry and mean it." Tears escaped Lavender's eyes. "Ssay sssorry and maybe then I'll forget all of the ways I could hex you while you're asleep in your bed or, even worse, frame you for detention!"

Blinking rapidly, Harry had to press his lips together to bite back a laugh. Oh no, not detention! Only Hermione…. He shook his head fondly, lips slowly curling up in a smile.

"I'm sorry, Hermione!" Lavender cried, clasping her hands in front of her chest beseechingly. "Really sorry!"

"Not to me, to Harry," Hermione snapped, shifting to point back at him, not just with her finger but also with her curls…? Somehow? Whatever, it was menacing and gorgeous and if this was how Hermione responded to threats against Harry then Lavender was welcome to act like this all of the time.

Biting her lip, Lavender leaned sideways around the bulk of Hermione's hair to meet Harry's eyes. "Sorry." She took a quivering breath. "I just wanted—"

Hermione cleared her throat and Lavender stopped talking to suck in a breath.

Lavender looked down, scrubbed her cheeks with her sleeve, and rubbed her probably bruised chest. "I am sorry, Harry," she said, looking up and meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry."

He nodded. "Okay, thanks." Thanks for making Hermione act like this more than for the weak apology, but whatever.

"You can go now," Hermione said bossily.

Sniffling, Lavender wiped her nose and stepped away from the tree, shoulders hunched as she fast-walked out of sight.

The students on the path resumed their movement now that the show was over. "That was rude," someone in a group of passing third years said snidely. "Maybe someone needs more beauty sleep as a statue."

"Eavesdropping is rude," Hermione said in the same tone of voice, swishing her wand through the air. "Maybe I should petrify you and your friends, see how you all like it?"

Drawing back like a flock of startled birds, the group put on a burst of speed and disappeared down the path without another word.

"Humph," Hermione said with slit-eyed satisfaction.

Turning back to Harry, she gave him a sheepish look and tucked her wand away. "Sorry about that. I don't know what's gotten into everyone around here lately." They started walking down the path together. "People are acting weird, not to mention that everyone seems more excited about the Quidditch season restarting than thankful for the return of their petrified friends months ahead of schedule and at great personal cost and mental trauma—" Hermione cut herself off, pressing her lips together so tightly they went pale. "Nevermind, forget I said that."

"Well I'm excited you're back," Harry said staunchly just as a group of broom riders dived in a low pass over their heads, ruffling their hair and shadowing the path with the V of their perfectly symmetrical formation. He craned his neck to try and see who they were. Precision flying like that could be a threat if it belonged to the opposition.

"And excited for Quidditch," Hermione said dryly.

"Well, yes," Harry admitted as he lost sight of the flyers before identifying them and returned his attention to Hermione. "But I am on a team. So are you," he reminded her, nudging her with his elbow. "We can be excited for both."

Tipping her head begrudgingly, she said, "I suppose that's true." She sighed. "The fleeting appreciation for our return is probably because the Basilisk's victims were all mostly unknown and unpopular." She counted out on her fingers, "Two first years, two second years, a cat, and Gryffindor House's ghost. Maybe if the victims had included older, more well-known students or a Quidditch captain or Prefect, the response would be stronger." She shrugged and then winced. "Sorry, I don't want to be a downer."

"No, it's fine. Really. Besides, you'll always be more popular than Mrs. Norris!"

Face brightening as she laughed, Hermione nodded. "Usually I like cats, but Filch's Mrs. Norris…." She shuddered and shook her head, making her curls bounce and her earrings chime. "Maybe the attitude is because so many people were hoping she'd be gone for good. If it had been Filch petrified, we might've had students actively sabotaging the healing potions, leaving the rest of them—of us—" she corrected herself and Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from asking all of the questions he desperately wanted answers to about her early revival "—as collateral damage."

"Just as well," Harry said. "But putting up with Mrs. Norris again is a small price to pay for having you and the others restored and I'll fight anyone who says otherwise." Harry shook his fist at the sky theatrically.

"And that's no small threat, after what you've done," Hermione said with a crooked smile and sideways glance.

"What we've done," Harry said pointedly.

Hermione looked away with an awkward shrug and sped up her pace.

"I am super happy to see you again," Harry said as he moved faster. "I kept trying to come see you in the infirmary and getting kicked out. It was trash!" He kicked a stick out of his path. "I was about to give myself a serious injury just so Madame Pomfrey would have to let me inside to see you."

"Harry!" She sounded scandalized, pausing at a fork in the path. "Please don't get hurt on my account!"

"Too late," Harry sing-songed, tugging her onto the longer path detouring up to overlook the Black Lake. "Been there, done that."

"Oh, Harry…." She looked down with a frown, twisting her robes around her fingers as she followed him. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." Harry gave her a smile and bumped her with his shoulder until she looked up at him. "I don't regret it, not in the slightest."

Cheeks pinking, the corner of her lips curled in a crooked smile. "Thanks." Hermione stayed pressed close as they walked in step, a line of warmth down his side to combat the brisk air. They crested a hill and moved past a small grove of trees until the sound of other students grew almost indistinguishable.

Hermione's steps slowed to a stop. She looked down and off to the side, out at the reflection of flyers over the Black Lake or else hiding her expression from him, maybe both. Her voice was small when she said, "I can never tell you how much it means to me that you came for me and rescued me from the Basilisk. I've never been so horrified or terrified and—and I thought I was going to die trapped and all alone in the dark with him and then I—I was scared I wasn't going to die and that my fate was going to be even worse and then—" voice wet, she sucked in a quavery breath, "then I looked up and you were there and I wasn't alone anymore."

Harry flashed back to that moment of joy and horror when he'd first seen her come out of the Basilisk's tunnel and felt his breathing hitch. "I'm glad."

She pressed a hand over her mouth, but a harsh sob still escaped. He could feel the force of it through where their arms touched. "I was glad too, so glad, and I felt—I feel—so guilty because that meant that you were in danger too and got hurt and almost died and that's probably my fault and—" She jerked away from him, rubbing her hand roughly across her face.

"Hey, no," Harry said firmly, pulling her back. Upset and not sure what else to do, he gave her a hug. Hermione went still for a brief second—making him start to panic—before she gave in, turning into his embrace and wrapping her arms around his back, practically melting into his chest as she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and neck.

Harry rubbed a hand up and down her spine. "It wasn't your fault," he said into her hair, willing her to believe it. "It was my choice to go down there. Besides, I want you to always be glad to see me, no matter what or where we are, okay? Even if, and I know this might be hard…," he paused for a moment for effect, "even if it's in the middle of a Quidditch game and I just caught the Snitch right out from under you. Be glad even and especially then, okay?"

Hermione gave a snort, breath passing humidly across his skin. She nodded slightly, her hair tickling his neck and face. "Only if you promise the same when I catch it. No more," her voice went tight and wobbly, "ignoring me for months on end just because you lost."

Stomach sinking, Harry winced. "Again, I'm so sorry about that. I was an idiot. I won't be without you ever again. I won't allow it." Licking his lips, he paused to find the right words, taking a deep breath in and out that ruffled the curls pressing against his face. They hissed in encouragement…or that was the wind. Either way was fine. "Hermione, I want you to know that nothing you say or do or are," his arms tightened around her back and he nuzzled her hair, breathing in her scent, "will ever make me turn away from you. I promise I've learned my lesson. I've tried to prove that and I'll keep showing you how much you mean to me until you believe it and can trust me again. From now on you're stuck with me, and if anyone dares to take you away again I'll come for you and make them regret it. Always," he vowed.

Whether that togetherness was as friends or as something else, something more, was for the future to decide. Harry just needed them to be together and Hermione to be safe and happy. His magic heaved in agreement to his vow, spinning out in a burst that made sparkles shoot across his skin and in the surrounding air for several seconds.

"Oh," she said shakily. Harry could feel Hermione swallow hard and press her face deeper into his neck. Her skin felt hot where it rested against his. He liked it. She swallowed again. "Well, good," she said, her warm, wet lips moving against the skin of his throat like burning brands. Harry shivered, breath catching hard as a strange new feeling jolted through his veins like bottled lightning.

Hermione didn't seem to notice, pulling back to smile at him with eyes sheened by tears. "Because you're stuck with me too, Harry Potter, so you better not be stupid about it," she gave him a fake glare, lips twitching. "We're going to be together. For always."

"Well, good," he said, echoing her earlier statement.

There was a loud splash, followed by shouting and laughter as someone fell off their broom trying to fly under one of the giant squid's curling arms out over the lake.

Hermione gently pulled away from Harry's hug. He felt a moment of chill and then she linked her warm arm with his and they resumed their journey down the path. "We'd better hurry to the broom shed before all the brooms are gone or it gets too dark to fly," she said practically. "It's getting late."

Conversation flowed easily between them after that, so easily that just before they reached the broom shed Harry dared to bring up what had felt so very taboo.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me what's going on with, well, with your hair being so…complicated?" He said vaguely, not wanting to say his snake theories out loud just yet on the small but real chance that he was actually crazy or that the Basilisk venom was still making him hallucinate things.

Expression tightening, Hermione's mouth opened…and slowly closed. She started breathing faster. They walked farther down the path in fraught silence, Hermione watching him from the corner of her eye. Running a hand over her head, Hermione coiled a curl around her finger and gave it a tug, chewing on her lip. She let go of the hair and slid her fingers up and down the long chains of her earrings, making them chime and filling the air with the sound of exotic lullabies.

They were almost to the broom shed. People had started brushing past them on the path, frustrated at their slow pace. Harry was getting frustrated too. "Hermione?" he prompted. Didn't she trust him?

As they turned the corner they found all four Heads of House along with Headmaster Dumbledore and Madam Hooch gathered together discussing the Quidditch pitch. Professor Snape looked up and caught Harry's eye before looking him up and down, making Harry's heart jump anxiously. Harry was glad he hadn't left off the regulation tie, just in case.

"I'm still figuring it out myself," she said hesitantly, "but it's…it's…" she trailed off, obviously struggling for words.

Snape's eyes caught on where Harry's arm was looped through Hermione's as they walked and something strange happened. A soft and completely foreign expression flickered over Snape's face; Harry would think the man genuinely pleased for him if he'd seen the look on anyone else. However, the expression darkened into regret and grief too quickly to be sure, followed by the usual grooves of sour dissatisfaction. If Harry had blinked he would've missed that moment of softness. Maybe he had only imagined it. It was hard to believe Snape could be anything but unhappy, especially when looking at Harry.

"It's…."

Noticing Snape's distraction, Headmaster Dumbledore looked up too. Not at Harry, but straight at Hermione. His eyes narrowed and flashed. Harry could hear the clack of Hermione's teeth snapping shut as she went tense against his arm. Dumbledore blinked and the expression disappeared in a flash, replaced by a genial smile, his eyes twinkling at them both, before he returned to his conversation. Madam Hooch waved her arms at something and the group of Professors ambled away.

"It is complicated," Hermione said haltingly.

Harry had to blink for a moment before remembering his question about her hair. "I can do complicated," Harry told her. "You can tell me, and if you don't want anyone else to know, I won't tell. Promise."

They paused at the door to the broom shed. Hermione slid her hand off his arm and stepped back, the tall doors casting her head and face into shadow. "I know, but," she gave him a crooked, complicated smile, "allow a girl to have her secrets, Harry. At least…for now."

And with that, she glided away into the broom shed, lifting her arms up to her hair and securing the wild curls into a bun for their flight. The tailing ends of several curls refused to be restrained, standing up and out from her head like a flurry of exclamation and question marks. It looked ridiculous and messy. Also cute. (Why did he find everything she did so cute?)

Unfair.

Sighing gustily, Harry followed her into the building, which had already been ransacked for equipment by other students. He wondered why he hadn't just met her at the locker rooms instead to use their team brooms for flying. Nostalgia probably. If he'd known that the rest of the school was going to go through here like a swarm of locusts, taking all of the good brooms with them, he wouldn't have bothered.

"You should take off those earrings too. They're going to slap you in the face while flying otherwise," he said, picking up and putting back down a broom with a splintering handle.

"Oh, yeah," she said with a worried frown. "I can't take them off, so I guess I'll just tie them back?"

All of the brooms left in here were crap. "I suppose," he said absently, searching the racks for something that would keep him alive in the air and let him go faster than a crawl. Then he rewound her words in his mind. "Why can't you take them off?"

A pair of Hufflepuff students came in to return their brooms. They looked half-decent, especially the broom on the left, so Harry gave the students an intimidating look when they tried to go around him and claimed the brooms right out from their hands instead of letting them return them to the shelf. He didn't want the three Slytherin girls who'd just appeared behind them to try and claim them for themselves. Harry liked those particular housemates, but not enough to make Hermione and himself wait longer for decent brooms. They exchanged nods.

"Thanks for the broom!" Hermione said, swiping the better broom from his hand with a laugh, her earrings now tied back into her hair.

"Hey!"

"Harry! HaRRY harry Harry harRY Harry!" The female voices all calling his name and overlapping each other were barely perceptible, but full of enthusiasm. Harry spun around but couldn't tell who'd spoken. The Slytherin girls were busy looking through the brooms left behind and didn't seem to be paying him any attention. It didn't sound like Hermione either, didn't even sound like a single voice.

"HaRRY harry Harry."

He spun around but still couldn't see a speaker. They sounded even farther away now. Strange. Oh well, he just hoped that whoever it was wouldn't stop him to ask for warm buttons or anything weird like that.

"See you in the sky!" Hermione called over her shoulder. She'd already gotten outside while he'd been distracted. She stopped just long enough to straddle her broom before taking off.

"Hey!" Harry ran after Hermione, jumping on his broom mid-stride and zipping up into the air with a whoop.

It was easy and natural to fall back into the rhythm of flying with Hermione. After a few minutes of playing chase, they slowed down by mutual agreement and glided close enough to talk, discussing classwork and catching up on each other's lives over the months of separation. The conversation hadn't gone perfectly, sprinkled occasionally with awkward pauses and unexpected opinions, but those rough edges had made it all the more real and precious. For example, Harry had trouble understanding the appeal of being friends with the Weasley twins or her sudden obsession with long and noisy earrings that she wouldn't take off even for flying, and admittedly, he'd forgotten how her nagging concern about his study habits could turn on a dime from charming into annoying, but even that was endearing in its own way.

All in all, Harry hadn't felt happier in months.

Sure, he kept imagining the faint sound of female voices excitedly whispering, "Hello…hello Harry…hello HArry hello harry...harry HarRY HELLO Harry harry…." He could hear the voices even over the rush of wind in his ears and the constant tinkling of Hermione's new jewelry where it was wrapped and tangled up in her hair. The shifting groups of fliers around them in the sky could be to blame, but Harry wasn't so sure. He lost the voices a few times while they were flying, but then he'd slow down and get distracted talking to Hermione and then just on the edge of his hearing during a pause he'd hear the voices again. He suspected it was probably something complicated.

At least the voices sounded friendly and eager to see him, so at least they probably weren't bad. Not like the Basilisk's voice in the walls speaking about hunger and blood and ripping flesh. That had obviously been evil and bad. Perhaps he should work harder to figure this out, but it was hard to worry about soft friendly voices saying hello when he kept getting distracted from it by Hermione's everything. Maybe what happened in the Chamber of Secrets had made his mind crack.

Oh well.

Looking at Hermione's curls gleaming in the light of the setting sun and the flash of her teeth as she threw her head back and laughed, he felt his stomach fizz and his skin flush with pure joy. Whatever happened next, he decided that it was worth it. He might be going a bit crazy, but Hermione was with him and they were happy. Totally worth it.

They'd ended the night with another race—which Harry smugly won—before promising to meet up again the next day in the Library—Harry's concession to Hermione's irritation at losing and his intention to be better at the friendship thing now that he had a second chance. He walked her back to the central staircase—would've walked her all the way up to the Gryffindor portrait door if she'd but asked—when they were waylaid by the Patil twins and Hermione was dragged off to talk about jewelry (and maybe Lavender) without him. He was tempted to sulk, but he was just so happy to have Hermione back and walking around that the negative emotion couldn't take root for more than a few minutes.

A loose Snitch shot past him into the stairwell and disappeared. Harry followed it through the door and went down towards the Slytherin dungeons. He felt lighter than air, like he was still flying in the clouds despite the windows in the stairwell transitioning from indigo skies and burnt orange horizons to dark sloshing water and pale fish swimming through forests of seaweed as he descended into the parts of the castle beneath the surface of the Black Lake.

Harry hummed a jaunty tune under his breath, skipping steps and doing the occasional twirl during the chorus. Even avoiding the spot in the stairwell mysteriously covered in horribly smelly lime green caterpillars and partially-melted six-sided dice wasn't enough to get him down. He just plugged his nose and hummed atonally as he skirted the smelly area. If it was a friend who'd been attacked, he'd find out once he reached the common room and either commiserate or help them get revenge. If it wasn't, he'd delicately ferret out the details and decide if it was worth saying something about. Until then, he'd hold onto his good mood.

Singing the password to open the door to the Slytherin Common Room, Harry danced inside with a grin until he looked up and saw a red spell heading straight for his face. Choking on the tune, he dove down to try and avoid getting hit. The spell brushed over the top of his head and splattered against the door at his back. Keeping his head down, Harry darted over to the wall, drew his wand, and took cover next to a large cabinet. It sounded like half the room was brawling and the other half screaming at each other. Harry had the bad luck to walk into the brawling half.

The top of his head felt weird. Something smelled weird too. Blinking rapidly, he reached up just as something warm and wet slid down his forehead. Wiping at his skin, Harry looked at his fingers and saw red.

Oh no.

Harry gingerly touched the top of his head. His fingers squished against the top of his skull. He sucked in his breath as his fingers slid off to the side and caught in the wiriness of his remaining black hair. Gross. There was a weird smell of garlic, oregano, and basil. Harry plucked out a strand from the top of his head with a wince. He couldn't help but glare at the limp spaghetti noodle dangling from his fingers. Only one person he knew hated pasta with marinara enough to weaponize it. How dare they attack him? He was going to scrape this pasta off his head and shove it down their throat! Shaving his head or taking a hair growth potion later to offset the baldness would totally be worth it!

Gripping his wand tight, he dove out into the fray.


AN: Thanks for reading!

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Harry: I am so subtle. Most people probably don't even know I'm friends with Hermione. There's no way anyone can tell I have stronger feelings for her. I'm so stoic and mysterious. What possible evidence could there even be?

All of Slytherin and most of Hogwarts: Your study dates all of first year? Your public fight and breakup when she caught the Snitch in her hair? Humbling yourself in front of the Weasley twins to get her in the game? Holding up a flashing, handmade flag with her initials in front of the entire school the second she flew onto the pitch? Getting your little viper club to attack and disarm your housemates so you could flirt with her in public? Defending her to Valeria? Kissing up to Snape so he'd let you go and see her after she was petrified? Your obsession with proving she knew about Slytherin's monster? Going down into the Chamber after her even knowing there's a Basilisk in there? Almost dying for her? Trying to sneak into the infirmary multiple times a day for weeks? The way you reacted in every single newspaper interview that mentioned her name? All your blushing?

Harry: What? You must be thinking of a different Harry. I am totally subtle. So subtle. Totally. *jumps on broom and flies away*

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