"Potter! Get your head out of your arse!" Katie Bell flew up to Harry during a timeout, looking ready to strangle him. "You've let in the last three quaffles—my blind aunt Muriel could've done a better job covering those goals," she yelled. The wind was blowing and what had been distant thunder was beginning to grow louder.
Harry started to apologise, but she cut him off. "-Save it. I'm subbing Ron in for you. I'm gonna need to give Thomas a break soon, so get your head right." She flew off yelling more directions at their fellow teammates.
As much as he hated to admit it, Katie was right—he did have his head up his arse. All because of one stupid Bulgarian.
He had left Hermione's in a huff last night, returned to Grimmauld Place, and immediately popped open a dusty bottle of elf wine he found in the pantry. Instead of following any of the self-care advice of his mind healer, he drank on an empty stomach, and eventually stumbled to the basement kitchens around 2 a.m. to harass Kreacher into making him a fry-up.
Next morning he slept in until the last possible moment, dreaming about Ginny, as usual. This time his dream involved Ginny in a very compromised position in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. He woke up with a throbbing hard-on but had left himself no time to address it. He was due at the pitch in twenty minutes.
Harry had been looking forward to this Sunday's Quidditch scrimmage. The DMLE–Magical Games & Sports team were playing the IMC–Department of Mysteries team. He always looked forward to playing against McLaggen and Malfoy. They were both half-way decent players even if they were both pompous arse-holes. The Department of Mysteries was a mixed bag, but they did have Roger Davies, an Unspeakable, who would call in Oliver Wood to play when he didn't have a conflict playing for the Montrose Magpies.
He had shown up five minutes before the game was set to start. Ron and Charlie were already warming up with Katie and Dean Thomas. The rest of the team was finishing suiting up in the locker room.
He had been pulling on his gloves when McLaggen came round the corner walking with his chest puffed out and speaking in his smarmiest voice to his Uncle Tiberius, Malfoy, and ... Krum.
God dammit. It appeared Krum would be joining in their game, playing Seeker. He was in the U.K. for another week and McLaggen had insisted he join them. His uncle caught wind of that development and made his appearance, placing a few well-placed kisses to Krum's arse.
Normally, Harry would have welcomed the opportunity to play against Krum. Since their time competing in the Triwizard Tournament, he and Krum had found a few times to play casually. Krum was quite impressed with Harry's skills on a broom during the first task, and had taken him under his wing, so to speak. He had urged Harry to keep playing Quidditch after graduation, but Harry was too keen on heading to his Auror training.
Harry and Krum had fallen out of touch over the past year. Of course, now he realised, with a pang of jealousy, that apparently Ginny had kept up their correspondence.
The game started off without issue. Harry was playing Keeper this week while Charlie played Seeker. The pair took turns playing the position, though Charlie admitted Harry was the superior player. As for today's match, Harry was glad not to be playing against Krum. Because of the aforementioned head in arse situation.
His mind repeatedly wandered to visions of Krum's giant sausage fingers touching Ginny's perfect skin. The scenarios kept getting more and more far-fetched and upsetting, that by the time Katie had kicked him off the pitch, he couldn't even look at Krum without wanting to push him off his broom and watch him fall to his death with a satisfied smile.
Harry flew his Firebolt down to the grass and grabbed a bottle of water. Despite the nip in the air, Harry's face was flushed. He poured a bit of water over his head and turned to sit down and cool off. Off to the side, he noticed a tall, handsome man, with brown curly hair smoking a fag. He looked closer and recognized him as Theodore Nott. He was leaning casually against the fence, keeping an eye on Oliver Wood.
Itching for a smoke, Harry wandered over to say hello. "Alright, Theo? Mind if I bum one from you?"
Theo smiled affably—he gave Harry a fag and used his wand tip to light it for him. "Nice to see you, Harry." He took a drag. "Seems you're having a rough go of it today?"
"Yeah, I guess I, erm, woke up on the wrong side of the bed." He gave Theo's outfit a curious look. "Are you playing today?"
"No, no," he said with a smile, eyes back on Wood. "I'm here for the view." He gave Harry a wink. "There are apparently quite a few single lads that play in the Ministry Quidditch circuit who also play for my team, as it were."
Harry chuckled, "Yes, but not as many of them are single anymore, I'm afraid." He sucked in the nicotine and felt some of the tension leave his body. "I'm fairly certain Charlie and Dean are seeing each other."
Theo clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Shame."
The pair watched the game in companionable silence, finishing their cigarettes, until the whistle blew, calling for a break. All the players flew down for a drink of water or to catch their breath. Ron, Charlie, and Katie were talking strategy —Katie was looking at the sky seemingly wondering if they were going to get caught out in the rain.
Harry watched as Malfoy and Krum walked towards the fence where he and Theo stood. Malfoy was laughing at something Krum had said while unscrewing the top of his water bottle. Krum was talking animatedly, swinging his arms around, clearly describing a particularly exciting play from one of his matches.
As they approached, Harry's eyes narrowed. They were both on his shit list at the moment, but he would attempt to play nice.
"Nice flying, boys!" Theo praised the players, clapping a hand on Malfoy's back. "Now, I'm not certain, but it seems you are wiping the floor with Potter's team today."
"Oh, but Hah-rry's team has many good fliers. I am guessing we are seeing some more points from them soon." Krum smiled broadly, giving Harry a friendly nod. "I compete against Hah-rry enough to be knowing it mistake to, what is the word ..." He looked at Malfoy and said a few words in Bulgarian.
"Underestimate." Malfoy didn't look too happy to be finishing Krum's compliment to Harry. This would have greatly pleased teenage Harry—he wanted to smile at his childhood nemesis's obvious discomfort. However, he kept his face neutral for fear Krum would misinterpret it as being grateful for his kind words.
Today, Harry felt nothing but vitriolic hatred for the pigeon-toed Seeker. He wondered what the hell all these women saw in him anyway with his thick, bushy eyebrows, and beak-like nose. What a tosser.
He heard Krum say his name again and perked his ears up. "Hah-rry, I am being sorry you could not stay at the flat of Geenee and Hermoninny last night. Maybe next time, yes?"
Harry's jaw clenched, but he responded politely, albeit coolly. "Yes, sorry Krum, but it looked like you and Ginny were looking for some one-on-one time—I didn't want to interrupt." He gave a tight smile. He thought he heard Theo whisper softly, "Oof." Harry refused to make eye contact and became very busy messing with the twigs of his broomstick.
"Oh, no, not at all. In fact, Geenee wasn't, how you say, 'feeling so hot.' She went to bed very soon after you left." A sly smile crossed his lips, "But no matter, I got my one-on-one time with my Hermoninny."
Suddenly, Malfoy's water bottle squirted water several feet over their heads, falling all over the four men. Theo burst out laughing and Krum soon joined in. Malfoy mumbled something about a cramp in his hand from riding his broomstick. Harry for his part felt like singing. Oh, Krum, ol' chap, I judged you too quickly.
Malfoy, on the other hand, turned suspiciously icey. Given his conversation with Hermione the night before, Harry took a moment to assess him: clenched jaw, white knuckles around what remained of his water bottle, scowl across his lips, eyes steely and cold. Well, that's not the face of someone who hates Hermione Granger. Quite the contrary.
Before he could investigate further, the whistle blew ending their break. Harry was subbing in for Dean as Beater while Ron continued as Keeper. Ron was playing a great game—far better than Harry. He had been in an exceptionally good mood all day—somewhat surprising as he was newly single.
The game ended less than twenty minutes later. Harry had sent quite a few bludgers towards Malfoy in particular, feeling both overwhelmingly curious and downright angry at the way he had been treating Hermione. He also, as a result, took it easy on Krum. Without much attention from the bludgers, Krum was able to keep his eagle eye out for the snitch. After a spectacular dive towards Cormac's left knee, Krum caught the snitch stopping just short of knocking McLaggen off his broom. Charlie had been right on his tail but was no match for the Bulgarian.
By the time the snitch was caught, a few more of Harry's old Gryffindor teammates had shown up to join in for post-game drinks. Katie had invited Alicia Spinnett and Angelina Johnson. Where Angelina went, so did her fiance, George—both of them often played to help round out Charlie's team.
The storm that had been threatening all day finally hit with a loud crack of lightning. They decided to head to the Three Broomsticks after Malfoy whinged loudly against the Leaky Cauldron. "We always go to that shit hole. Can we not?"
The Hogsmeade pub was surprisingly busy for a late Sunday afternoon—Professors Sprout and Sinistra were having their monthly book club with a table full of cackling grey-haired witches, a group of stylish looking wizards were grabbing a drink before the Weird Sisters concert, and a large, loud table of goblins were animatedly talking in Gobbledegook in the back corner.
The group grabbed the rest of the free tables and ordered drinks at the bar. Harry moved from table to table catching up with old mates, talking politics with Ministry coworkers, and needling George for details on his newest invention.
When the Weasley contingency left to help Molly prepare for dinner at the Burrow, he made it over to the "Slytherin" table, where Theo, Krum, Malfoy, and now Blaise Zabini were sitting. Krum was happily catching up with the Slytherins he got to know during the Triwizard Tournament.
Theo clinked his glass to Harry, in a nice gesture of welcome. Zabini, wearing expensive robes and drinking what was likely expensive gin, assessed him coolly but did not protest to him joining their table.
Now that Harry no longer felt like ripping Krum limb from limb, he happily sat down. He and Krum had a great conversation about how Krum's team was faring, and his plan to retire in the next few years with the goal of starting a Quidditch scouting firm. Malfoy had been quiet, seemingly stewing in his corner.
The topic of Hermione came up organically, and Krum immediately sang her praises to Harry. It tickled Harry, though it wasn't too surprising, that someone he'd never felt more than brotherly affection for had this international star wrapped around her little finger.
As Harry described Hermione's brilliance at the Pub Quiz that prior Friday, Malfoy abruptly left the table, his chair scraping loudly across the worn wooden floor. Harry's eyes followed him to the bar and decided to continue his investigation from earlier. "Excuse me, lads. Malfoy owes me a drink."
Harry sidled up next to Malfoy who was scowling over his firewhiskey. "Say, Malfoy, turns out I will have that report back to you Monday. Mind if I cash in that drink early?"
Malfoy gave Harry a quick side-eye then gestured to Madam Rosmerta to pour Harry a glass of what he was currently nursing. She waved her wand bringing over a bottle of 100-year-old single-barrel Blishen's Firewhiskey and gave Harry a healthy pour into a tumbler. Harry gave Madam Rosmerta a winning smile—she never failed to brighten his mood. They both watched her saunter to the other end of the bar before Harry spoke.
"You doing alright, Malfoy? You seem a bit, I don't know, perturbed. Been suffering from hair gel withdrawals?" Malfoy snorted into his glass but didn't respond. They sat in silence for a minute, sipping their drinks.
"Look, Malfoy, as loath as you are to admit it, I'm not actually that thick. In fact, I'm fairly observant, highly trained at that—some might even say it's my job to be." Malfoy rolled his eyes, but Harry pressed on. "You seemed to turn mighty cold towards Krum after he admitted he and Hermione spent some time together alone last night. If I'm being honest, you're being pretty fucking obvious about it, mate."
Malfoy's scowl deepened. "Even if anything you're saying had even an iota of truth in it—tell me, Potter" he spat out, "how that is any of your bloody business."
Harry let the silence linger for a minute, and sipped his top-shelf firewhiskey. "Hermione is my sister, yeah? She is one of the most important people in my life and always will be." He turned his green eyes on Malfoy, his face deadly serious. "Long story short, if you hurt her, you'd better run because I will not rest until I either permanently disfigure that pretty face of yours or," he cast his eyes down, "something even more precious to you."
Malfoy cleared his throat in discomfort and backed away ever so slightly. Having accomplished his goal, Harry gave him a friendly pat on the back. "Well, I'm due at the Weasley's for dinner. Thanks for the glass, Malfoy. Sure beats the swill I normally drink." He called over his shoulder as he headed toward the Floo, "You'll have that report back by the end of day tomorrow."
Harry hurried through the Floo entrance of the Ministry on Monday morning, Daily Prophet tucked under his arm, and headed straight for the lifts. He pressed the call button several times, anxiously bouncing on the balls of his feet. Just as the lift arrived, he heard the sound of a camera flash, and whipped around to see a journalist running towards him. "Harry! Harry Potter! Do you have a comment about the recent rift between your two best friends?" Another reporter was on his heels, "Harry, does this recent development signal the end of the Golden Trio?" After another flash of a camera bulb, Harry rushed into the lift and slammed the metal grill closed, pushing the button for the fourth level repeatedly. As the lift moved, he heard several more voices clamouring after him.
When the lift opened at the fourth floor, Harry walked as fast as possible to Hermione's office, opened her door without knocking, quickly closed it behind him, and locked it.
"Harry, good heavens! What is it?" Hermione had been in her office since her usual start time of 5:30 a.m., about two hours before the Daily Prophet was published each day. Harry slammed that morning's paper on her desk.
She looked warily at the front page:
GOLDEN GIRL ENDS GIRLFRIEND GRIFT,
WEASLEY WRESTLES WITH WOOING WOES
A Rita Skeeter Exclusive
"What a fucking stupid headline." Hermione scoffed but kept reading.
Another day, another dollar—another man kicked to the curb by the wizarding world's most fickle witch. Hermione Granger has dumped one Ronald Weasley, number 5 on "Witch Weekly's 30 Most Eligible Wizards under 30," in an apparent heartless breakup.
"I think we're better as friends," was the calloused, ice-cold send off Miss Granger gave to her longterm and loyal boyfriend. Despite Mr. Weasley's desperate declaration of love in response, this reporter confirms the pair are no longer an item.
Who is next on the hit list of the Flooziest Witch of her Age? Perhaps, Neville Longbottom, a Hogwarts Battle Hero, and certifiable hottie (number 10 on "Witch Weekly's 30 Most Eligible Wizards under 30"), should keep an eye out before the notorious heartbreaker gets her claws into him next. Once again, this reporter also raises the question of whether the Ministry should investigate the unpermitted use of love potions.
Yours truly will keep Mr. Weasley's well-wishers updated regarding this and what is surely to be future scandalous affairs of the Golden Gorgon.
"SKEETER!" Hermione stalked to her fireplace, grabbed some Floo powder and screeched out "Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter's office!" She grabbed Harry's arm, and before he could protest, they both squished into the grate.
Harry spun quickly around, flashes of various fireplaces zooming past until he and Hermione tumbled out in front of a platinum blond witch with loud purple robes sitting at her desk painting her nails neon green. Her Quick Quotes Quill was racing back and forth across parchment on her desk.
The pen screeched to a halt as her eyes fell upon the pair. She quickly grabbed a fresh page of parchment and set her Quill at the ready.
"Harry! So good of you to drop in! Let me guess, you're here to inform me that you've decided to give Miss Granger a second chance?" Her Quill began racing across the parchment, describing the lovesick green eyes of the Chosen One.
"You will print a retraction. You will take back every insipid word of your article, Skeeter." Hermione was speaking through her teeth, her curls practically crackling with furious magic.
Skeeter responded with a honey sweet voice with just a hint of poison. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Miss Granger. It's my job to keep my readers informed." She smiled showing too much teeth, and went back to painting her nails.
Harry interjected as it appeared Hermione was going to start screaming at her. "How did you even find out about this? You've agreed not to use your Animagus form around us!"
"Good question, Harry. You were always so bright, such an exceptional young man." She stood and began circling her office, using her wand to water the dozen pots of orchids she kept. "I have a deal with the young Fortescue. In exchange for favourable reviews of his revamp of the Ice Cream Parlour, I've been permitted to cast a few anti-privacy wards and he keeps me apprised of anything of interest. He passed on the news of Mr. Weasley's heartbreak to me yesterday—which reminds me, I need to finish my review of his new menu." She turned back to sit at her desk, sending them a simpering smile, "I like to keep tabs on all the Golden Trio's favourite haunts."
Hermione was breathing hard, her hand wrapped tightly around her wand. "You've violated the terms of our truce, Skeeter. You're leaving me no choice but to report you to the Improper Use of Magic office."
"Oh, I rather think that would be pointless." She picked up a parchment with a golden seal from her desk and waved it lazily in front of her. Harry snatched it out of her bright green manicured hand. "You see, I've recently received my official Animagus registration in the mail. So, it appears," her grin turned vicious as her eyes fell on Hermione, "you've just lost your leverage."
Back in Hermione's office, Harry watched as the witch paced back and forth, muttering to herself, desperately attempting to come up with a new plan to tamp down on some of Skeeter's more vile journalism tactics.
"We'll figure something out, 'Mione, I promise. I'll pull some strings with the DMLE to get you extra security, we'll search your usual spots for those wards she was talking about. I'm pretty sure there's an Animagus locator spell that Tonks mentioned the other day. It should work now that she's registered." He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a bracing smile. "For now, keep my cloak with you. Keep your head down. Don't rise to her bait."
Hermione took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. Harry could tell she was blinking back tears.
"She's – she's such an – an evil cow." She wiped a couple tears that managed to escape from her cheeks. "And of course, Ron has come out the other side completely unscathed."
Harry sat her in her chair and went to grab them both a cup of strong tea.
After a few more minutes of calming her down, she was ready to change the subject. "Once again, Harry—please distract me. Tell me more about this date with Padma."
"Oh! Right." Harry had completely forgotten about his date. That wasn't an auspicious start. "Well, I ran into her at St. Mungo's the other day. I was waiting for an informant to be cleared for an interview. She's starting the next phase of her Healer training there." He played with his tea bag, feeling awkward. "She just, erm, said I was looking good and asked if I wanted to grab dinner some time."
"Nice one, Harry!" Hermione grinned. "Padma's definitely a catch. And you do look fit these days. That Auror training really packed on the muscle!"
Harry blushed a bit. He had the least amount of trouble receiving compliments from Hermione, who had spent a fair amount of their years at Hogwarts countering his insecurities. But, it was still strange to hear praise about his looks.
"Yes, well, we're meeting at that fancy Muggle Italian restaurant in Chelsea Wednesday night. Might be a bit much for a first date, but I'm hoping it might make up for what a total tosser I can be around girls."
Hermione waived her hand dismissively. "It's not as bad as all that. Or at least, you were great with Ginny . . ." She let her thoughts on the matter end there, clearly feeling embarrassed about mentioning Ginny. He couldn't help feel a twist in his gut.
Harry stood up, and handed off his Invisibility Cloak. "I better get going. Just Floo me if anything gets bad. I'll be in touch about how we can handle this Skeeter situation."
He headed towards the door and remembered he meant to ask her something. "So, you and Krum? It sounded like maybe you and him . . . had some time alone the other night?"
Hermione looked confused, "Erm, in a manner of speaking. Ginny went to bed soon after you left (she's in a right state about your date) and he and I chatted for an hour or so."
"Hmm, right. Well, he left it a bit vague about what the two of you got into." He watched her carefully as he added "Once again, I got to see Malfoy nearly explode."
Her head jerked up, eyes round in surprise. "What did you say?"
"I mean, who knows, Hermione, but from my perspective—he's got it bad."
Harry watched Hermione turn the colour of a ripe tomato as he closed the door, chuckling to himself.