Wicked Games
October arrived, and with it a much colder, uncomfortable autumn weather. "I really wonder how we're going to play in this storm," Lavender kept remarking, shaking her head, as she sat with Parvati on her numerous homework exercises and essays, watching out the window as the trees bent in the wind. "I can hardly keep on my broomstick sometimes!"
Lavender was hopelessly behind with her tasks by now—she'd already had to take four Trolls from Professor Ashley alone and would probably never make it up to date. At least not as long as I have Quidditch training almost every day. But how can I help it if we, of all people, have to play first? And then against Slytherin …
Every time she thought about it, her stomach tightened with excitement. The match was to take place on Saturday, and the time until then seemed agonisingly slow to Lavender. At the same time, the days flew by and she really started to worry about the weather, which refused to change. Even the strong Impervius Charm couldn't cope with this heavy rain, and day after day, the members of the Quidditch team left the field in a miserably soggy state. It could only be a matter of time before someone fell ill and had to be replaced at the last minute.
Moreover, the balls seemed to develop a real life of their own in the storm—which led to Ron, even more often than usual, staring open-mouthed after the Quaffle that seemed to fly through one of the three large hoops as if by itself. "Ron, you have to stay in the middle to guard the gates evenly!" Harry snapped at him every ten minutes. "Not always in front of the left one!"
"I can't help it if the wind drives me away all the time!" Ron justified himself and missed by a hair's breadth a ball that Lavender shot at the goal. "And you, aim properly!" he ordered the Chaser. "How is one supposed to practise like that?"
"And you, catch properly!" she mimicked him. I can't believe I chose him for my first kiss! she thought, shaking herself. Lavender, after more than a week, was still stunned at how disgusting such a kiss could be. Especially now that she had a comparison …
Draco, she thought, and as every time she thought of the Slytherin, she was seized by sudden fear. But there was another, darker feeling mixed in, which she couldn't quite put her finger on. At least he's a good kisser and somehow he tasted better … and he wants to finish me off at the game—if he hasn't changed his mind in the meantime …
Draco had been back in class since Monday, even paler than usual, and seemed strange, as if he was just not himself. No comments, no nasty looks—as if he had finally decided to stick to the agreement with Dumbledore and leave Parvati and her alone.
"Wait until he's really well again," Parvati had replied in a weary voice when Lavender expressed her surprise. Yes, when she thought about it, her friend didn't exactly make the fittest impression either. Not at all, actually. She looked really pasty in the face, hardly ate anything, and her eyes … somehow didn't shine like they usually did. If that's not a serious case of lovesickness, I don't know … when is she going to sort it out with Harry? What's the problem?
Lavender didn't dare ask any more, because Parvati would become quite abrupt every time. It's because of her upbringing, she guessed. Preferably no sex before marriage at all … Man, that can't be healthy! Lavender's fine ears had not failed to notice what Parvati recently was doing under her blanket for hours late at night—no matter how quiet she was. Not that it bothered Lavender in any way—it was just so uncharacteristic for Parvati … and she better didn't call her friend on that either.
Or does she now like someone else she can't reach?, it suddenly struck her, and the next moment, the Quaffle flew at her head. "Ouch!" she yelled, and stars danced before her eyes. "Shit! Who did that?"
"The wind, the wind, the heavenly child …" purred Ron, and Lavender gave him a withering look.
"Where are your thoughts?" Harry snapped at her. "Be glad it was only the Quaffle and not a Bludger! Why don't you pay more attention? The Slytherins are just waiting for an opportunity like that! Are you up for the hospital wing by any chance?"
"Nah … sorry," Lavender muttered unheard against a whistling gust of wind. Harry's nerves had thinned considerably over the last few days, or more precisely, since his cloak had disappeared. And actually, she didn't want to add to it. But why doesn't he talk to Parvati? How uptight can a guy be—he knows the score! And they still get along great … well, he probably does want something from Ginny after all—
"Jeez, RON! You catch the Quaffle before the goal!" Once again, her musings were interrupted by Harry's angry voice.
"It's not my fault if the wind—"
"The Slytherins will appreciate!" roared Harry, already growing hoarse.
Ron said nothing more in reply, but his scowl spoke volumes.
This is going to be fun, Lavender thought. If it goes on like this, we will definitely lose—even without Draco's help.
Finally the day arrived. Lavender was wide awake by six o'clock and couldn't for the life of her get back to sleep. She lay in bed with her eyes open, staring out the window, lost in thought; every time she thought of the game in eight hours, adrenaline pulsed through her veins. My first game! I hope it goes well … but at least it's not so stormy today! The fact that the sky was grey and a fine drizzle sprinkled the windows was part of the standard programme, no one had been bothered by that for a long time.
At eight, she couldn't stand it any longer and went into the shower, but without washing her hair. After the match, her hair would be due again anyway—she'd rather have Parvati do her hair in a French plait for the match, that way it would be the least annoying.
She was one of the first at breakfast, apart from her, only Harry and Ron from the class were sitting at the table, similarly nervous as herself. Lavender forced herself to hold a conversation with Harry, who was barely listening, and to eat something, although she had a tight knote in the stomach. Ron just stared grimly at his plate and only looked up when his little owl Pigwidgeon came fluttering with a letter for him. Lavender's barn owl Athene also made an appearance today. With a queasy feeling, she fiddled the letter off that was attached to her leg and fed the owl with a chocolate toast.
"Friday, 4 October 1996
Dear Lavender," she read her mother's plain handwriting, so unlike her own. "We all wish you the best of luck in today's Quidditch match and keep our fingers crossed! We are very proud that you have been selected for the team and are sure that you will honour your house!
We were also very happy about your "Outstanding" in Potions! We think it's great that you are doing so well in this subject after it was so difficult to get you into it! Keep it up!
Take good care of yourself, and many greetings and kisses
from your Mum and Dad and your little sister Rose"
Lavender lowered the sheet, the bite stuck in her throat. It was not the first letter of this kind she had received this school year. Kind words, but with high expectations behind them.
Lavender knew how disappointed her parents would be if she didn't graduate. And after years of "underachieving", as her mother sometimes put it, they seemed to have high hopes for her this year. Her mother was, as always, very well informed about her school performance, which was due to the fact that she regularly consulted the teachers about her development in the problem subjects.
Over the years, Lavender had come to terms with this without getting screaming fits when receiving her mail. And it didn't stop her in the slightest from remaining consistently bad at Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms and History of Magic. Did her parents had the slightest idea why Potions was suddenly so important to her?
"Good morning!" Hermione had stepped up to the Gryffindor table, patted Harry, who was staring into his tea with a slightly glassy look, on the shoulder encouragingly and sat down beside him. "So, excited?" She treated Ron like air in her usual manner, even when she almost had to dislocate her arm in the process to fish the bread basket out from under his nose. Lavender at least she took note of with a quick glance.
"Ah—hello, Hermione! Here … your Daily Prophet has already arrived!" Harry had registered with some delay that Hermione was suddenly sitting at the table and held out the newspaper to his friend, who was just getting ready to cut open a roll.
Hermione put her knife aside. "You might as well have taken a look already," she said in a slightly reproachful tone as she enfolded the newspaper, rustling, and made her face disappear behind it, eliciting a small smile from Harry.
It had become almost a running gag between Hermione and her friends that she was annoyed by their laziness in reading dry newspaper reports peppered like mad with complicated facts.
And if anyone understood the boys' reluctance, it was Lavender, whose toes curled at the mere sight of the sober, closely printed lines and the sparse moving black and white photos. She rarely endured reading an article in full and even understanding it—she was perfectly content to have to slog through the required passages in the school books every day.
Besides, she hated that long-winded political drivel as much as unpleasant news—which was mostly one and the same. And didn't Parvati constantly claim that the Daily Prophet was three-quarters lies and withholding anyway?
"Oh dear," it now came from behind the newspaper. "Listen to this, Harry: 'Still no sign of the missing Muggles: There is still no trace of the three Muggle persons who have been missing since last week'," Hermione read out in a loud, ominous voice. "'They are two female students from Glasgow, aged twenty and twenty-two, and a forty-year-old family man from Falkirk. From a closer examination of their family circumstances as well as their dates of birth, a certain pattern emerged which could indicate renewed activity by "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named"' …"
Once again, the bite stuck in Lavender's throat and she wished with all her might that Hermione would keep her newly acquired information to herself. She didn't want to hear such horror messages at all, especially not at breakfast and even more so when an important Quidditch match was scheduled in a few hours.
But relentlessly Hermione read on, while Harry looked over her shoulder with a petrified expression and Ron, with obvious effort, pretended not to listen: "'The most powerful of all wizards in the field of the Dark Arts is known to select his victims at times according to esoteric or biographical considerations, which he deems essential in the performance of certain' …" Hermione faltered briefly as Harry's eyes widened, "'rituals. His fondness for astronomical events and the fact that there was a total lunar eclipse on the night of last Friday may indicate that such a ceremony took place, and'—"
At that moment she was abruptly interrupted by Ron sneezing explosively into his cereal.
"Beauty!" crowed a boisterous voice from the neighbouring Ravenclaw table; Hermione and Harry merely winced, and Lavender hissed furiously, "Hey! How about covering your mouth?!"
"Oh, don't make such a fuss!" barked Ron back, pulling up his nose and starting to dig in the pockets of his robe for a handkerchief.
"Hello? Your germs are really the last thing I need right now!" Lavender nagged, but her last words were already lost in the noisy trumpet blast Ron sent into his worn handkerchief.
Whoa …, Lavender thought and demonstratively pushed her plate away from her. Now she really wasn't hungry any more.
Hermione lowered the paper, tears standing in her eyes. She whispered something to Harry that Lavender couldn't understand over the busy murmuring around her, but Harry replied a little louder, "That's all the more reason we all need to stick together, Hermione. It starts in small things …"
He gave Lavender a quick glance, then softly nudged Ron, who was poking around in his cereal with a reserved expression; apparently he had lost his appetite for it. "Um," Ron grunted, but then he pulled himself together to form a complete sentence: "Well, what I don't understand—why the Ministry let this information get into the newspaper at all. So far it's just conjecture. Why upset the apple cart?"
For this question he earned an appreciative look from Hermione, even if she didn't answer. Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Leaks, who knows … but always good to know what's actually going on beyond Hogwarts …" he said with a thin smile and made a sweeping arm motion. "Makes me going to the Quidditch pitch much more serenely …"
Again he looked at Lavender, who returned his gaze silently. What does he expect from me?, she thought, slightly annoyed. That we're all going to spontaneously act like love, peace and harmony just because of an article like this? I really don't want to know about all that …
But when Hermione asked for the coffee pot, Lavender reached for it so quickly that she knocked the jam jar out of the hand of the third-year next to her, and it hit her plate with a loud bang. "Sorry," Lavender said briefly and without looking, then she eagerly handed Hermione the pot across the table.
"Thank you," Hermione said, giving Lavender a quick glance from her misty eyes, which looked strangely greenish through the veil of tears. Then she quickly lowered her head to pour herself some coffee.
Yes, it would be nice if we could talk to each other normally again, Lavender thought, Harry's words still clearly in her ears. He wanted them to stick together—and it was actually very important for Lavender to live in harmony with her fellow human beings. If she had even known in the slightest that this initially harmless flirtation with Ron would end in this icy, burdensome silence between them and Hermione, she would certainly have kept her hands off him. It just hadn't been worth it, and Lavender was only now realising how much she missed being with the whole bunch—whether that was at dinner, in the common room in the evenings, or on Hogsmeade trips. This argument was ruining everything …
On top of that, Parvati wasn't exactly the picture of innocence either when it came to quarrelling with others … With a slight grin, Lavender thought about how cheeky her friend could get when her temper got the better of her—the word fights with Severus; the countless run-ins with Draco Malfoy; then that weird bitch alert with Ginny—the cause of that was probably obvious …
And of course not forgetting Padma, Lavender thought, as her gaze fell as if by chance on the dark shock of hair of Parvati's sister. Unlike Parvati, she was an early bird and was already sitting flanked by her friends at the Ravenclaw table—where, of course, they didn't anything else than reading the Daily Prophet in the most beautiful harmony.
After breakfast, Lavender left the Great Hall with the others. Outside the door, they met Draco Malfoy, who was about to enter the hall with Crabbe and Goyle.
He still doesn't look good, Lavender thought. Draco's skin was like porcelain, the veins were already shimmering through, and there were deep rings under his eyes.
But where he had given the impression at the beginning of the week that he would finally let it rest, the look which he now gave the Gryffindors was full of hatred. "Well, see you on the Quidditch pitch later," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "And prepare yourself for the worst!" At the last sentence, he glared at Lavender.
"Uh, Malfoy, I'm gonna pee my pants! I'm so scared of you …" Despite all her good intentions, Lavender just couldn't let it go, and Harry nudged her. "Come on now!"
Hermione stepped from one foot to the other, and Ron had already walked a little ahead.
"I rather think our Weasel King is about to pee his pants!" yelled Draco through the corridor, causing a group of Ravenclaws to turn to them in amazement. "And you have every reason to, you pseudo-goalkeeper! You won't catch anyway!" Crabbe and Goyle burst into a pleasing laugh, and Draco's pale lips twisted into a suggested smile.
Ron didn't even turn around, and stalked off with his head held high. Hermione and Harry also turned to go. "And the same goes for you and the Snitch, Potty-babe!" the Slytherin called after him.
He's getting all puffed up, Lavender thought sourly. I'd really like to smack his face! "Just in case you're having trouble with your memory," she said in an extra-sweet voice to Draco, who was smirking at her superiorly from above, "Harry's caught the Snitch every time so far! You're just too retarded for him, Malfoy! Accept it already!"
Satisfied, she registered how the sneering expression on Draco's face changed completely; then she turned with a broad grin and almost got her nose caught in the robe of Severus Snape, who had suddenly appeared behind her. Startled, she bounced back. "Oops!"
"Oops," Snape said in a low voice. "I've caught you in the act again, Miss Brown."
"He has—" Lavender began, but immediately broke off and hung her head. There was no point. Severus had warned her about Draco, and yet he kept catching her in situations that must have seemed like she was thoughtlessly throwing his advice to the wind. It was like being jinxed.
"He has?" echoed Severus in a drawling voice; it sounded as if he had swallowed an entire bucket of honey. "What has he? Or were you about to say 'I have'?"
There they stood before her, one bright as an angel, dark as night the other; and yet they were like a unit. No chance. Lavender stretched and looked her teacher in the eye. "Good. I … provoked him," she said challengingly, and on the last word she glanced at Draco, whose grey eyes were scrutinising her in an indefinable way. There was still hatred in them. But also … desire. Lavender shivered.
"Yes. I heard that, Miss Brown," Severus said, his black eyes piercing her. "And there will be a point deduction from Gryffindor—ten points!"
Lavender took note of this announcement without batting an eyelid, but the next sentence sounded like music to her ears: "And on Monday, you'll be in my office at seven o'clock! Detention!"
"Yes, sir," she murmured submissively and had to stifle her smile with all her might. A detention! At last … It would be ridiculous if she couldn't get close to him after all—
She had half turned to go when a snarling "Accio!" made her spin around again; immediately afterwards she gasped when she recognised the piece of rose-coloured parchment in his hand which was her mother's letter. Outraged, Lavender watched as his eyes involuntarily skimmed the few lines before he handed her the sheet with a smug smile. "I suppose you just dropped this."
With her mouth open and her cheeks burning, she took it. Her laughter had passed. Well, was it interesting?, she would have liked to ask him, but unfortunately there was this thing with the house points—she had already made sure that Gryffindor was behind at the moment.
At that moment, she saw Parvati coming down the big marble staircase—once again all in black, her hair tied back in a tight plait and almost paler than the days before. The tight-fitting cardigan and the flowing fabric of her long hip trousers made her look very slim and fragile and gave her walk almost a floating quality. My God, Lavender thought, inwardly rolling her eyes, she really cultivates her sorrow …
Immediately she felt ashamed of this thought and turned her attention back to the gathering in front of the Great Hall, which had begun to disperse in the meantime.
Severus was about to turn around and enter the Great Hall with Draco. But suddenly he turned his head and gave the girl on the stairs a quick look over his shoulder, in which there was not even the slightest trace of scorn or sarcasm. Lavender gasped involuntarily and her whole body was suddenly a single ache.
She looked quickly at Parvati and her breath caught—her friend returned Severus's gaze over Lavender's head and her usually dull eyes lit up. Harry, on the other hand, who was still standing next to Lavender, she greeted normally a few moments later without looking at him any further.
And then she knew. Parvati had been lying to her all along. And Severus had looked at her as if he … missed her! It couldn't be …
"Well?" said Parvati now. "Excited already?"
Lavender nodded mechanically as her friend turned back to Harry, "Have you been messing with Malfoy? Before the game of all things?"
"He's been messing with us," Harry returned, annoyed. "I'd love to shut his stupid mouth!"
Hermione heaved a sigh. "Harry, it's no use—"
"Yeah yeah!" he said gruffly. "You know, Hermione, I'm beginning to think he was the one who stole my cloak! Who else would have such an interest in covering his lousy mug!"
Lavender gave a thin giggle, but swallowed it immediately when she saw Parvati's face. Her friend looked as if she had seen a ghost and was staring at a vague spot above her right shoulder. What's wrong with her now, Lavender wondered. Does she know something we don't?
The morning dragged on like chewing gum. Lavender wrote down what she had just experienced in her diary, then paced restlessly up and down the room. She was still nervous about the upcoming game, but now a burning sensation in her chest area had joined in. The way she looked at him!, she kept thinking. She so doesn't care about Harry … how could I be so blind?
Suddenly she remembered numerous other situations—little glances exchanged in class, the tone of voice when Severus picked Parvati. Parvati's reaction when she had found Lavender in Snape's arms on the Quidditch pitch, and how depressed she had been ever since.
And that thing with the piano and the subsequent detention! Severus was watching her play … oh boy! Was there something?
Lavender sank down on the window sill and stared at the mighty treetops below her. And I asked her specially about that …, she thought, desillusionated. Lavender had to think about how she had literally begged Parvati to confide in her that night after her Quidditch accident—how naive she had been! She had even offered to her to give up on Severus! And yet she lies to me after I've practically handed the excuse to her on a silver platter! Doesn't she trust me anymore? Or did she also want to renounce him because of me and deny her feelings so that I don't have to feel guilty?
It would suit Parvati. Lavender knew that her friend had often backed down for her and would give her the shirt off her back. But would she still if love was involved? What if she just wanted to lull me into a false sense of security and made a pass at him behind my back?
Lavender suddenly sat bolt upright. Then she grabbed her diary again and hastily scribbled another page. "You can forget about that, Parvati Patil," she muttered to herself as she then hid the diary under a loose plank of wood halfway under her bed. "I'll just be quicker!"
It was still drizzling gently when all of Hogwarts gathered in the stands around the Quidditch pitch in the afternoon. But the storm had, thankfully, almost completely abated. Lavender sat on her Comet 93, ready to go, bobbing up and down slightly, around her the other players waiting with tense expressions for the game to begin. They had already all gone to playing hight as had the opposing Slytherin team. In a few seconds, the starting whistle would be blown by referee Madam Hooch, who was moving back and forth on her broom at the edge of the field.
Lavender let her eyes wander over the crowds of spectators gathered around the field in the stands. The Gryffindors, like the students from the other houses, were quite easy to spot by the colours of their uniforms and the flags that were being waved wildly. She could very faintly make out Parvati next to Hermione and Neville in the third row. Snape sat right on the other side; Lavender just saw dark hair framing a pale face from a distance.
"I'll get you," she hissed to herself. "First we'll win this game and then I'll get you!"
It had been hard for her to play the clueless one in front of Parvati, who had been buzzing around her all morning, in her recently so absent-minded way—swallowing all her feelings, the hurt ones, the jealous ones and the angry ones.
And again and again the doubting question whether she hadn't simply imagined it … Parvati had still been so far away. Severus could have been looking anywhere! And did her eyes really shine?
Oh yes, it whispered in Lavender. They did!
At least Parvati had witched a perfect hairstyle on her. Not a single hair would disturb her first match against the Slytherins.
There! The starting whistle sounded. Deep below them, the box was now opened and the balls were released into freedom, whirling towards them with nauseating speed. Lavender, along with all the other Chasers, death-defyingly lunged at the Quaffle and actually got hold of it first. Immediately she dashed off in the direction of the opposing goal. She was immediately attacked by Michael Bexter, one of the opposing Chasers, but quickly played the ball to Dennis Creevey, who continued to run with it towards the goal. Lavender sidestepped the opponent and suddenly found herself close to the left Slytherin hoop. "Dennis!" she yelled, and the agile boy played the ball back, which she immediately threw across the ring accompanied by the deafening cheers of the Gryffindors.
"AND THE FIRST GOAL FOR GRYFFINDOR!" roared Joshua, the commentator, excitedly with his voice amplified by the Sonorus. "FROM LAVENDER BROWN, THE ONLY WOMAN ON THE TEAM!"
A hot feeling of happiness ran through the girl. This was what she had always dreamed of. To be on the Quidditch team and win goals for her house. And everyone was watching her do it. Even Severus …
It did not remain with the one goal. Lavender, Dennis and the third Chaser, Donald Ewing, were a strong team and managed in a nimble and agile manner to dodge Crabbe's and Goyle's Bludgers and outwit the slightly larger Slytherin Chasers. The scale of goals scored rose almost by the minute, Joshua and all the rest of the Gryffindors were gushing with excitement.
But unfortunately, Ron let through the balls of the opposing Chasers at almost the same pace, which in turn made the Slytherins cheer. It wasn't long before the inevitable "Weasel Hymn" could be heard swelling and decaying from their ranks: "Weasley is our king, he always lets the Quaffle in …"
As often as she could, Lavender risked a glance at Severus Snape, who stood motionless between the other teachers, some of whom were waving. He is seeing me, she thought every time she shot another ball past the Slytherin goalkeeper into the goal. He sees that I can do it … that I have courage ….
Harry and Draco, on the other hand, were still loitering idly on their brooms at the edge of the action, looking in vain for the Snitch, which had disappeared as soon as the box was opened and made no effort to reappear.
Now it would be perfect, Lavender thought after a while. She was already a little exhausted and it was getting harder and harder for her to dodge the Bludgers that were still being relentlessly fired at her by Crabbe and Goyle—and really almost always at her!
"Move your butts!" she hissed to the Beaters in her team, as another of the massive iron balls flew past her head within a hair's breadth, which was acknowledged by a murmur from the rows of spectators. It's not funny any more, she thought. This can't go on forever!
She caught a ball thrown to her by Dennis and headed with it towards the goal, watching out of the corner of her eye as Goyle sent another Bludger after her. Edward Beckett from her team approached to send the Bludger in another direction, but in doing so he was jostled so brutally by Crabbe that he almost fell off his broom. A sharp cry went through the stands. "WHAT A ROTTEN MOVE BY VINCENT CRABBE! I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Joshua fumed, but Madam Hooch did not intervene. The rules of Quidditch were really not for the squeamish, fouls were part of the game.
Lavender ducked and the ball flew over her head. Enraged, she sent the Quaffle through the goal amid the cheers of the Gryffindors. The Keeper, who also looked tired, gave her a hateful look.
For heaven's sake, it's a game!, Lavender thought incredulously. They'd all love to kill me! I'm glad Draco isn't a Chaser or a Beater … but he must have drilled something into Crabbe and Goyle, she thought, as another Bludger whistled over her. It's about time that stupid Snitch shows up, really!
But the little golden ball was not to be seen. Draco continued to do his bored laps and watched Lavender and the others wear themselves out. Meanwhile, the Slytherins had caught up with the score. Ron just couldn't manage to hold the balls the taller Slytherins were peppering him with, and she, Colin and Donald were more and more slowing down. This was a strategy, it suddenly became clear to Lavender. That was exactly what they were counting on. With her last ounce of strength, she caught a ball thrown by an opposing Chaser and dived under him.
But when she saw the large, heavy iron ball appear directly in front of her, it was already too late to react. She just managed to reflexively pull her arms in front of her face, and the very next moment, the world exploded around her.
Everything went black. Lavender still felt that she flew into something soft. Then she slipped off her broom and fell into the depths.