Angelina let go of Harry's hand before they climbed through the portrait hole, but only after the fat lady's raised eyebrow and slightly inquisitive tone as she let them pass.
Harry didn't really know what to say to any one of his team members, who sat still dressed in their soggy Quidditch robes looking beat. The vibe as they stepped into the room felt a little expectant, as though they'd waited for him to return to the common room before going up to bed. It occurred to him as he looked at them all looking at him that perhaps they'd sent Angelina to fetch him. This made him kind of agitated, but he sighed and sat down on a chaise next to Ron. If they were going to complain to him about his temper or his big mouth, he would let them, and then he would tell them all to stuff it. No one really said anything to him, though, and his irritation eased off a little.
"You all right, mate?" Ron asked quietly.
Harry paused for a moment, glancing at Angelina, and nodded his head. "Yeah. Sure. I'm feeling just great."
"Prat…" Ron muttered, nudging him with his elbow. Harry's lips twitched into a smile and he nudged back, unable to help himself from feeling relieved that Ron didn't seem to want to blame him for what was happening.
"Wanker…"
"So what are we going to do?" Katie Bell asked suddenly, and rather impatiently.
"I think the solution is rather simple, actually," Hermione piped up from her position near the fireplace. She was the only one of the whole bunch who had the good sense to use her wand to dry herself. She stood looking as if she hadn't set foot in the rain at all. Harry chalked that up to their low spirits—he himself just didn't feel like drying off. Just sitting there all damp and sad seemed to be the right thing at the moment.
"Oh yeah, Granger?" Fred retorted. "And what's that? We're all ears."
"Well, we simply appeal to her, that's all. I'm sure she's just doing this to gain more control of the school, but that doesn't mean she'll be unreasonable."
"Unreasonable?" Ron snapped. "Look at Harry's hand!" Harry frowned and swept his aching hand away from Ron before he could lift it for everyone to see.
"Well…" Hermione blushed, giving Harry a sympathetic look, and sighed. "She's punished Harry enough—and she's reminded us who's boss, so to speak. I think that's all she wants."
"So we just go and ask her to give us our team back, then?" Harry spoke, rubbing his forehead exhaustedly.
"Well, yeah."
"I'll do it." Angelina spoke up. Her tone was resolute and full of authority. Harry stared at her. Her eyes met his for a split second and then drifted to Hermione. "I'll go and ask her. I'll beg if I have to."
"What? Did you just say we should beg?" Fred gasped.
"Never!" the twins asserted in unison. "We'd rather eat mud; we'd rather sniff Hagrid's farts for all eternity; we'd rather see McGonagall naked than-!"
"Gross…" Ron made a disgusted face before Angelina interrupted the twins' ranting.
"I didn't say we," she told them firmly. "I'm the team captain—the team is my responsibility. I'll do it."
A silence fell over them all as Angelina's decision settled into their minds. Fred and George did not look pleased, and frankly neither did anyone else. But what choice had they? If Hermione was right, all they had to do was swallow their pride and give Umbridge what she wanted: a session of arse-kissing. Harry thought bitterly to himself that, no, it wouldn't be all they had to do—it would be Angelina. She would have to swallow her pride. He felt guilty for the first time since they read the decree. As Angelina's resolve to take one for the team had let the wind out of the sails of the conversation, nobody else had much to say. Ron stood up after a while and grabbed his broom from its leaning position against the chaise he and Harry were sitting on.
"I'm going to bed. Good luck, Angelina."
Harry watched Ron stalk up the stairs to the boy's rooms, getting the feeling that his best friend was upset about something. His shoulders were slumped and he let his red hair hang in his eyes; he didn't look at anyone as he passed them. Harry knew he should get up and go after him, but the will to do so eluded him for the time being. I'll ask him before I turn in, he thought. After a half hour or so of sitting about; lingering in bitterness over their situation; the others followed Ron's cue and started heading off to bed. Harry sat there still, though, watching Fred and George try to convince Angelina not to beg.
"You shouldn't have to humiliate yourself for the blubbering twat," George was saying.
"Yeah, Angie, she doesn't deserve your-!"
"If that's what I have to do, then that's what I'm doing." Angelina cut Fred off. "If you two are my best mates, then you'll understand that I'm doing this for the team and that's the end of it, savvy?"
Fred clenched his jaw angrily, but nodded that he understood. George looked as if he wanted to argue some more, but at his brother's urging glance, sighed in defeat. "Fine," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "But I'm whipping up some Gassy Goose tonight, just incase."
Angelina made a face. "What the hell is Gassy Goose?"
"It'll make you fart for a week straight. If Umbridge so much as looks at you funny, we'll put it in her tea and then we'll see how much gas that fat arse of hers can handle!"
Angelina's stern expression melted into a huge grin and she hugged George tightly. "Will both of you idiots leave me alone and go to bed already?" She reached up and ruffled Fred's hair, so it looked like an extremely feathery copper-colored hat. He shook it out of his eyes and pulled her hair hard, causing her to yelp in annoyance. Before she could grab him, he laughed at her and dashed out of her reach. George followed his brother up the stairs to the boys' dormitories, chuckling haughtily.
Angelina turned and looked over at Harry, the smile fading slightly from her attractive face. He was about to speak—though truthfully he didn't know if he wanted to ask her to sit next to him or to tell her goodnight—but her eyes traveled up and behind him. "You coming up to bed, Hermione?" she asked, somewhat pointedly.
Harry hadn't realized that Hermione was still standing behind him at the fireplace. He'd been so engrossed in watching Angelina that he didn't notice Hermione hadn't left the room with the others.
"Um, in a minute, thanks." Hermione was standing just over Harry's shoulder, now, but he didn't look up at her. He cheeks were burning for some reason. Angelina nodded goodnight and, without looking at Harry again, made her way up the stairs and out of sight. Hermione sighed and walked around to sit next to Harry in Ron's spot. They didn't speak for a bit. He rested his head on the tip of his broom, which was a little uncomfortable, but he didn't pay much attention.
"Harry, what's wrong?"
"Nothing…"
"Liar, you've scarcely said a word this whole time. Are you still angry?" She sounded a little scared that this might be true, and despite himself he felt that she should be. This malicious thought quickly melted, however. He knew that Hermione didn't really blame him for what Umbridge was doing, despite her tendency to lecture him on controlling his temper.
"I'm not mad anymore. I'm just…" Harry sighed and closed his eyes, unable to articulate his current mood. He was tired, of course, but beyond his generally low spirits he was still lingering on the moment he and Angelina shared in the hallway. He thought…it was coming to form very slowly…sprouting up from a deep place he hadn't noticed before…but he thought he might feel…something. He wondered if he should tell Hermione about Angelina. He really wanted to confide in Ron, if anyone, but something told him that maybe Hermione could better help him understand his feelings. "I, uh…" Harry turned slightly on the cushion to face her. "I have to tell you something."
"Is it about teaching us defensive spells? Because Harry, I really think you ought to-"
"It's not that," he cut her off. "Actually, I think I might do it." Her face lit up and she made to hug him, but he put a hand up to stop her. "I'll do it, but I'm warning you I don't really know all that much about defensive magic. I mean, I've never taught anyone before, and..."
"Harry, you can do this, I know it! And I'll help you. Just use your experience, that's all. You'll see."
"Right, well…okay then." Harry felt somewhat uncomfortable, as if he'd made the wrong decision, but decided to let it alone for now. They had so much to figure out, anyway—they didn't even know where they were going to hold these secret meetings yet. He cleared his throat and started again. "Hermione…uh…what do you think about Angelina?"
Hermione frowned as if she didn't quite understand the question. "She seems fine enough. Fred and George say she's a great captain. Bit bossy, but…I like her. Why?"
Harry was silent for a moment. He was thinking about the year before. About the Yule Ball or rather, what happened afterwards. Hermione was looking at him inquisitively, her hand touching his arm. "Harry, what is it? You think it's a mistake for her to go to Umbridge? You think…" she paused. "You think you should?"
Harry bristled. "Do you think I should? Is that it?"
"What? No."
"Because it's my fault, right? Because I can't control my temper?" In an instant his temper had risen, ironically proving Hermione's point. She shook her head stiffly.
"Harry, no!" she snapped, her cheeks pinking up in frustration, "That's not what I meant at all. I was simply trying to figure out what you're trying to tell me. But if you're going to be a prat, then good night."
She stood up huffily and marched across the common room and up the stairs to the girls' dorms before he could sputter out an apology. Harry cursed at himself under his breath. He really wished he hadn't reacted so sharply to her now apparently innocent question.
"I like her, too…" he muttered, feeling dejected and even more confused. He was still damp. He was tired. He decided to forget about it for the night and go to bed. As he was crossing the common room for the stairs, he felt a momentary wave of nostalgia. He remembered then that he had stood at the foot of these stairs, watching Angelina go up to bed wearing her Yule gown, her exposed back looking sleek and unsettlingly attractive as she climbed each step almost a year ago. He had felt so young then, though he was going through so much at the time that what happened that night seemed simply to go with the territory. He remembered the next morning having to put up with Ron and Hermione not speaking to each other, and his jealousy of Cho and Cedric, not to mention the fact that he still hadn't figured out the egg clue from the first mission of the Triwizard Tournament.
Harry let the memory carry him up to his bed, where he merely slipped off his Quidditch gear, laid his broom on top of his trunk, and slid into the warm dry sheets. He didn't even bother to take off his glasses, but drifted off to sleep…
The dream was the same each time.
Harry was trying to reach this door. This door at the end of a long hallway. It stood dark and blank, and the desire in him to walk through it propelled him forward with tremendous, urgent force. He began to run. He ran and ran, but it seemed the further he ran, the further away the door was from his reach. He felt anger and frustration rise up within him as he pumped his legs, and surged on and on and on. He didn't know why he had to get there, but he had to get there!
Harry extended his arm and tried to will it to stretch beyond his normal reach. He panted as he ran, arm stretching, hand grabbing…
He hit the floor with a heavy thud and was instantly jerked awake by the sharp pain in his butt and shoulder from the hardwood. "Damn it!" he grunted angrily, sitting up and rubbing his shoulder. He sighed and straightened his crooked glasses. The skin behind his ears was aching from the pressure of the wire frames. He shouldn't have slept in them, but decided to ignore the pain. He was always in pain, nowadays—a little more wouldn't kill him.
Speaking of pain, his scar was stinging. He reached up to touch his sweaty forehead, rubbing the slightly raised surface of skin that formed a bolt of lightening.
"Blimey, you all right, Harry?" Seamus was looking at him curiously from his sitting position in bed. Harry squinted up at him and shrugged. "Well, what're you doin' down there on the floor in your skivvies?"
"I fell," he muttered, not moving to get up.
"Bad dream again?" Ron asked. Harry turned to see that his best friend was awake. He half-expected Neville and Dean to poke their heads through their drawn curtains to stare at him, such was the trend.
"How did you know I was having them?" He had purposefully not told Ron or Hermione about his dreams because he wanted to try and figure them out first. But it seemed that his best friend knew him too well for that to work.
It was Ron's turn to shrug. "You make noises in your sleep. And, well…" Ron smiled. "You were kind of whimpering like a puppy a minute ago before you fell."
Harry shot up from the floor and tackled Ron, grabbing a pillow and using it to thrash at the scarlet-headed boy. Ron's startled laughter turned into a light-hearted grunt as he seized Harry's arms and tried to force him off. Seamus rose to his knees and cheered them both on, making whooping noises and laughing. Dean woke up, opening his curtains and looking on with a sleepy but amused smile.
"Get off, arsehole!" Ron growled, his smile firmly in place as Harry repeatedly hit him with his own pillow.
"Make me!" Harry blocked Ron's attempt to punch him in the arm and wrapped his legs around the boy's waste to pin him down. Ron rolled his eyes and groaned good-naturedly.
"Ow, Harry! You're heavy; you eat too many—ow!—sweets!"
"Ha, ha, Harry's got a fat arse!" Seamus giggled. Dean chucked a pillow across the room and it hit him in the face. "Hey!"
Neville poked his head from his drawn curtains, rubbing his sleepy eyes. "What's going on?" he asked groggily. The boys all stopped what they were doing and looked at Neville. He blinked. A split second later they were all on him, diving through his curtains and falling on his lanky body in a heap of laughter and pillows.
Ron whacked Seamus across the head with Neville's pillow and gave a hoot, only to be knocked on his back by Harry, whose foot was firmly in Dean's grip. Harry twisted around and hooked Dean in a headlock once he'd freed his foot, and the other boy began punching him in the thigh to get him to release his neck. Harry winced, "Ow! Ow! Ow! Quit it you twat!" while Seamus and Ron took turns hitting poor Neville in the face and torso with his pillow. The boys rolled around for ages until they were all sweaty and laughing at themselves stupidly.
Seamus managed to sit up on his elbows, Neville's leg sliding off of his face. "If any of the girls ever saw this, they'd cluck like hens for sure!"
"I can already hear Hermione…" Harry mumbled, suppressing a chuckle.
Ron blew a lock of hair out of his face. "Don't seem fair that they can get in here, but we can't go up there."
"Yeah…but then again, if any of us did manage to get up there, can you imagine what we'd see?" Dean shivered.
Seamus nodded in agreement. "Girls are scary. Right, Neville?"
They realized then that Neville had fallen asleep again.
When they were dressed and on their way down to breakfast, Ron motioned to Harry that they should lag behind. Harry slowed his pace, and soon they were walking down the stairs a few paces behind Neville, Dean, and Seamus.
"What's up?"
"You really should tell someone about those dreams, you know Harry?"
Harry paused. "I know…" he said, finally. "I wrote to Sirius, but he hasn't answered me yet. I mean…they don't really make much sense to me, though. I want to ask Dumbledore about it, but he's been gone for two days."
"Yeah. Hermione said McGonagall told her he went abroad. Dunno what for, though…" He paused, frowning at his shoes as they walked, before snapping his fingers and looking up again. "D'you think he's on a mission for the Order?"
"Maybe?" Harry shrugged. Something else occurred to him and he frowned at Ron. "What's up with you, then?"
"What d'ya mean?" Ron went back to watching his shoes again.
"You seemed in a bad mood last night. You were kind of…" Harry tried to think of how best to put it. "…sulking."
Ron snorted indignantly. "I was not sulking!" Harry shook his head casually and said nothing. They walked on, jogging down the marble stairs in silence, and when they were almost at the entrance to the Great Hall Ron let out an exasperated sigh. "Well, I mean, I was a bit upset, but I wasn't sulking."
"Okay. You weren't sulking. What were you upset about, then?"
"Practice went terrible, didn't it?" Ron asked as they were entering the Hall. Before Harry could answer, Ron spoke again. "I mean, Angelina was really grinding me. I felt like a giant arse."
"Ron, we were practicing in the middle of a rainstorm. No one could see a thing," Harry offered reassuringly as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table across from Hermione and Ginny.
"Yeah, that's how I felt! But…" Ron's expression soured. "I doubt Angelina thinks of it that way. She's gonna chuck me from the team for sure. That's if we're even allowed to be a team anymore." He shook his red hair into his eyes; his lips pursed grumpily as he reached over to a platter of crisp bacon and removed several pieces for his plate. Harry didn't say anything in response.
"Ron, that's rubbish," Ginny chimed in. "Angelina picked you for a reason. She wouldn't kick you off the team because of one bad practice. I'm sure Harry was terrible when he first started." She grinned at him and scooped up a spoonful of cereal from her bowl.
"Gee thanks, Ginny," Harry said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "That helps."
"Harry was brilliant from the start," Ron said, not feeling any better. Harry looked to Hermione for support, but she was reading the Daily Prophet and didn't appear to be listening to the conversation at all. Ron was looking at her expectantly as well, but when she still hadn't spoken, he sighed and reached for a piece of toast. "Let's just drop it, all right?"
"Sure." Harry began to eat his eggs, feeling somewhat annoyed with Hermione. As he was biting into a piece of bacon he caught sight of Cho Chang and her friend Marietta Edgecombe (whom Harry didn't really like that much) entering the Great Hall with a bunch of other Ravenclaw students. Their eyes met for a mere second and then Harry noticed also that Angelina was entering with Fred and George. A conflict of the oddest sorts began in him at that moment in time, and he felt a peculiar little lump form in his throat, causing him to put down his bacon and turn away from the sight.
He went through the rest of the breakfast pretending not to see either Angelina or Cho, and thought he might make it out of the Great Hall just the same before Cho came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Harry, can I talk to you for a second?" He closed his eyes briefly at the sound of her sweet voice and then gestured to Ron and Hermione that they continue to Professor Flitwik's Charms class without him.
"Sure," he turned around to face her, only vaguely registering that he could see Angelina looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "What is it?"
She moved closer to him and lowered her voice. He went rigid at the proximity, but waited for her to speak. "Hermione says that you've agreed to, you know, teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Oh. Yeah. Well, I, uh…" Harry sighed. "Yeah. I thought about it. It makes sense, I guess."
"D'you not want to?" She frowned sweetly at him. She was pretty even when doing that.
"It's not that, but-I dunno, really. I guess I'm just nervous about so many people depending on me to show them how to do that stuff right. Hermione is the one who usually teaches me stuff." He was somewhat surprised at his honestly with her about this, but she smiled at him sympathetically and he relaxed about it.
"Listen, I think it's a great idea. Everyone's really excited."
"Really?"
"Aye, and they should be. After all…" Cho blushed a little and Harry found himself staring at the deep, rosy color as it appeared in her soft, creamy skin. "You're Harry Potter. That's worth the risk, don't you think? To learn from Harry Potter?"
It was his turn to blush, but he caught sight of Angelina approaching Delores Umbridge as she was getting up to leave the staff table and his smile faded.
"Cho! We'll be late for McGonagall, come on!" Marietta was calling from the door.
"Oh, I'd best be going, then." Cho said half-heartedly. Harry nodded, distracted by what he was seeing, and Cho turned to walk past him. "See you, Harry…"
"Yeah. See you." Harry couldn't take his eyes off of Angelina and Umbridge, who were moving into the corridor behind the staff table, talking. Umbridge had that syrupy-sweet smile on her face as usual, and Angelina looked as if she wanted to throw up but Harry could see that she was forcing her own smile firmly into place. He could only imagine what was being said. The humiliation of it all was enough to make him sick, as well. They disappeared into the corridor and Harry turned away, breaking into a jog—he was late for Charms.