Harry tapped his quill against his History of Magic textbook impatiently, hardly taking in anything Professor Bins was saying, as he waited with hedged breath for the clock on the wall to sing the end of the lesson.
Hermione kept throwing him menacing looks, and went so far as to snatch the quill from his hand and throw it on the desktop. He barely registered this, however, and began drumming his fingers instead. She rolled her eyes and cursed under her breath.
"What are you so anxious about, then?" Ron asked drowsily, drawing little goal rings across the corners of his book.
"Nothing…" Harry muttered, though he was thinking that he only had two minutes of Professor Bins' droning left before he could see Angelina.
The day before, she had used her free periods to see to the tryouts, and would be on the pitch every chance she got in her search for new team members. She had even missed dinner last night and breakfast that morning. Harry heard snatches of conversation from players on other teams who had been practicing before she started and stayed to watch. A square-jawed Hufflepuff player joked that the assembly of eager candidates had been the 'sorriest lot of wannabes' he'd ever seen. Malfoy lost no time in making fun of Harry. Every time he passed the jerk and his stupid followers, they whistled and let loose catcalls followed almost always by either "Better tell your girlfriend to break a leg, Pottykins!" or "You Gryffindors don't stand a chance Saturday!" Ron usually got "Hold your breath 'till the match, won't you Weasel? Got a little surprise for you!"
On top of all that, the rumors about him and Angelina seemed to be spreading and getting ridiculous: there were even rumors that he had stolen her from Fred and that the three of them were caught up in a love triangle. Hermione told him irritably at breakfast that she'd had to break up an argument between two second-years that'd been fighting over whether or not it was true. She said they'd been bickering over whether the fight at the practice drill was between Harry and the twins over Angelina. Harry knew that Umbridge was probably monitoring all of this from a distance; he just didn't know what she would do about it, if she chose to do anything at all.
He avoided Cho, though he couldn't really reason with himself as to why. He didn't think it should've been such a big deal; after all nothing had happened between them. But something almost did…that was reason enough, wasn't it? He didn't like not being sure if he still had the same feelings for her as he did last year. Not when he was he coming on with Angelina so well. He found himself daydreaming about the latter often, and was only interrupted with fleeting memories of Cho occasionally, which confused and agitated him. He knew he should be clear about it before going any further; he had to figure out exactly what he felt for Cho to be fair to Angelina. If he had to pretend not to see Cho in the Great Hall at meals until he could then so be it.
He sat impatiently at the desk between Hermione and Ron, knowing that he had figured it out. He wanted Angelina. Cho was a great girl; very sweet, but sweet wasn't what he wanted anymore. He wanted the intense, exciting, all-consuming whatever-it-was that drew him to Angelina Johnson. Whatever it was that made him sit here counting the seconds as they ticked by, wishing he could speed up time…
He had intended to have spoken to Dumbledore by now, but he was finding it rather difficult to get a hold of the headmaster. Harry had twice attempted to visit him, but on the first occasion, during a free period the day before, the stone gargoyle had not moved when he spoke the last password he'd been given: Licorice Snaps. Harry figured that the password had been changed since last he visited the office and decided to try again later. But on his second attempt, after dinner last night, Professor McGonagall had not given him the password, instead telling him that he should be patient. "The Headmaster has some things to attend to just now, Potter," she'd explained to him seriously. He wanted to ask if it was for the Order, but thought better of it, instead focusing on his slight irritation at being denied access to the old wizard twice. "He'll see you in due time. May I be of assistance until then?"
"No, thanks…" he had told her, disappointment showing in his voice despite his efforts to smile politely. "I'd rather talk to him if that's okay." She had bristled slightly at the statement, but then nodded and said she understood.
So not seeing Angelina, coupled with the taunting of the Slytherin Quidditch punks, left Harry feeling annoyed and harassed most of the time. It didn't help that Ron and Hermione had been bickering since the night before when Ron had 'caught' her writing a letter to Victor Krum. He'd been outraged, though unable to tell her exactly what he found so insulting about her writing to the Bulgarian Seeker. Hermione had called him a tetchy lump of freckles, and he'd shot right back that she was a control freak and a traitor. Even though Harry had broken up the row, they had remained on the edge of it all morning. Harry thought to himself as they made their way to History of Magic earlier that if one of them snapped at the other again he would hex them both.
"Bottom of the eleventh hour, students! Off to study with you!" The clock sang finally.
"Right, that will be all. Dismissed." Bins drawled hollowly from his position floating above his desk. Harry mentally gave a "woohoo!" of joy as he quickly shoved his book and parchment in his bag and jumped up from the desk, almost knocking Hermione's ink bottle over. She hissed something unladylike at him and took her time gathering her things. He tapped his foot impatiently, glaring at her as he and Ron waited by the door. She slowly closed her bag and stood up, even taking care to push her chair up to the desk before following an already leaving Harry out into the hall.
"Bloody hell, we've got practice tonight…" Ron muttered as they made their way through the throng of students. "And double Potions after break. Today is shaping up to be a poor one, indeed." Harry barely spared his friend attention as he took the stairs two at a time. Ron and Hermione hurried along behind, though they did not see the need to scale the steps like him. Hermione moaned in objection.
"Oh, really, what's your hurry, Harry?"
"Gotta do something," he called back, not trusting that they would understand—he really just needed to see Angelina. Maybe talk about things. Myabe do other things besides talking..."Mimbulus mimbletonia!" he shouted at the fat lady, who swung forward with an indignant "…little monster, who does he think he is, yelling at me like that…?" He ignored both this and Hermione's breathless apology to her as he emerged into the common room, his eyes searching out the attractive face of the tall, black Quidditch captain.
It was Alicia Spinnet who approached him, and he had to force himself not to frown at her.
"Well, you've been replaced." She sighed and plopped herself onto the couch.
He blinked impassively at her. "With who?"
Ron sat down in a chair opposite Alicia and propped his feet up. "Hopefully someone worse than me so I won't look like such an idiot on Saturday…" he muttered. They all ignored him.
Alicia shrugged at Harry's question, twirling her blonde ponytail around and around with her index finger. "Ginny Weasley."
"What?" Ron and Harry said in unison.
"She's good," again, Alicia shrugged. "Seems to really know her stuff. Mind you, she's not as good as you were, Harry, but we've got no other options at the moment."
Harry clenched his jaw at her harsh tone, but chose to continue as if he hadn't picked it up. "And what about the Beaters? Who's going to replace Fred and George?"
"Andrew Kirk and Jack Sloper. They're all right."
"Who?" Alicia did not repeat herself. He had never even met those two. It puzzled him that there were kids in his own house that he had never even heard of. He fancied he knew at least half everyone by their faces, if not their names. But he immediately put it aside; he didn't want to be talking to Alicia. He wanted to be talking to-"Where's Angelina?"
"Upstairs, I think. Probably taking a nap. I'm knackered as well. Me and Katie have been helping her with tryouts and it was bloody grueling work."
"Damn…" he mumbled, rather disappointed.
Hermione had disappeared already, probably off to study, so he couldn't ask her to let Angelina know he was looking for her. Alicia was dozing off on the couch. Ron seemed off in his own world, his eyes fixed on his shoes. He had a look on his face that suggested he was turning over some unpleasant thoughts. Harry knew he was either pining over Hermione and Victor or imagining that he would make a fool of himself in front of the whole school at the Gryffindor/Slytherin match. Or both.
Sighing heavily, Harry carried himself towards the stairs leading to the boys' dorms and prepared to spend his break period sitting alone in his room.
"Hey." His head flew up and he saw Angelina coming down the stairs, having showered and changed out of her Quidditch gear. He beamed at her and she returned the smile, albeit with a hint of weariness. "What are you up to?"
"Free period. I was going to go and study. You?" He couldn't help the tone of pleasant surprise in his voice. She looked very nice, even though she had only changed back into her school things. He took special notice of how her jumper swelled in a certain area… Harry blushed and drew his eyes back upward to her face.
"Me, too." Angelina walked across to him, her smile slowly spreading. "If I'm smart I'll use the time to study like you. I begged off McGonagall's class this morning to finish the tryouts, but what I really feel like doing is nothing at all."
"Right." He wanted to ask her something…could he? His eyes quickly scanned the common room to make sure no one was paying attention to them. Everyone seemed to be engrossed in their own various activities…should he? "Um…d'you want to…join me? We could, you know, study together? Or not."
She looked into his eyes and nodded silently, much to his relief.
"Does that tickle?"
Harry lifted his fingers from her collarbone slightly as he looked into her deep, shining brown eyes, his mouth slanting into a curious smile. She shook her head, never breaking their gaze. He didn't either as his fingertips once again resumed their exploration of her neck. They sloped down with her collarbone and glided softly along the thin chain of the simple silver necklace she always wore. "How'd you get so…soft?" he muttered to himself, his eyes lowering from hers to observe the smoothness of her dark chocolate skin. He also quite enjoyed the contrast of their two tones against each other: his pale fingers resting against the mahogany incline of her neck was a pleasing sight to his eyes.
Angelina chuckled quietly. "Why do boys ask such silly questions?"
"Sorry." He reluctantly drew his hand away, but she took hold of it before he could get far and turned it over to look at the white scar on the back; the jagged forms of the letters scrawled across his skin harshly informed her that he would not tell lies.
"Answer my question and I'll answer yours."
"It wasn't really a question. I was just-"
"Why does your scar hurt?"
"It doesn't hurt anymore. It's healed."
"I'm not talking about this one."
Harry stared at his hand in hers as he pondered whether or not to answer this question. Everything was quiet now…the breathless activity from before had now been drained out of them as they lay there together.
They had come up to his room, and to Harry's satisfaction found that none of his other roommates were there. It had been her idea to lock the door. He didn't protest. He knew they both had no intention of studying. He would worry about any locked out and irritated roommates later.
He hardly breathed as he watched her approach him from the door, her eyes dark and intense as they had been Sunday night when he returned from escorting Cho to her common room. He had muttered something along the lines of "…I thought you said we shouldn't…?" but she had merely tossed her head dismissively and seized him, falling with him onto Seamus' bed, which was closest to them.
This session of comfort was far better and far more intense than the others, especially where his previously unsatisfied nether region was concerned.
Though Harry had always observed that Angelina was beautiful and headstrong and fearless from four years of watching her kick arse on the Quidditch team and hold her own against the likes of Fred and George—he had never thought he would get to experience this side of her. She was magnificent.
At first, she led the way; her movements were paced and purposeful. His heart throbbed beneath his jumper before she removed it and his school tie. She unbuttoned his collar just enough to expose his neck and he found himself allowing her to sink her teeth gently into his skin. Then followed a pulling sensation that sent the quivering warmth through him again. She did this for a little while; Harry had actually closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the odd but pleasant feeling before she let him go to smile at him.
"Did you like that?"
"Yeah." Harry breathed. "Where'd you pick that up?"
"Around…" she answered mischievously. He wanted to ask from whom, but didn't receive the chance; she was kissing him again before he could blink. Kissing was always his favorite. Angelina's lips were full and warm and they gave him the most wonderful flutter in his stomach. The quivering turned to full on waves of heat that rolled through him endlessly yet rhythmically as he folded his arms around her. Her body was lean and soft against his. Her frame as delicate as any fragile thing—he was surprised at this; she was an athlete but had curves like…well, like he imaged Cho might have. Casting Cho to the back of his mind, Harry concentrated on practicing what he was learning. Their tongues met and mingled slowly. He found that deepening the kiss ever so slightly made her stiffen with what he knew was pleasure if he did it every so often. They were sitting up on Seamus' bed; her legs were wrapped around him and she sat in his lap. Their arms were wrapped around each other and the heat between them had no room to escape. Harry moved his kisses from her mouth to her chin, as she had done him the other night. She let out her breath slowly as he lingered there for a second before moving down to her neck. She smelled so good. He couldn't help making a small noise that he hoped she couldn't hear as he breathed in…she smelled like vanilla. He loved vanilla…he bit her on the neck just the way she had him and he felt her legs tighten around his waist. Harry kneaded the soft flesh just under her jaw and ear with his mouth for a long while, enjoying the way she reacted to his attention to what seemed like a particularly sensitive area for her.
He let his arousal come without much complaint this time. It couldn't be a bad thing, he reasoned, if it felt so good.
"What do you want to do next?" she had asked him when they'd stopped for a breather. He could only shake his head, grinning at her like one of those eager first years she'd described to him who had never ridden a broom before.
"I dunno. Tell me what you want."
"Why don't you figure it out, Potter?" she had said in that way. He knew he was beginning to secretly like it when he reached out and pulled her closer to him. "Go on…" She bit her bottom lip with hunger; their noses touched and Harry found himself almost hypnotized by her mouth. "Don't be shy."
It would have irked him in any other circumstance to be called 'Potter' and 'shy' all in the same breath, but he wanted more to get his mouth on hers than to argue the fact that he was a growing young man who took himself somewhat seriously. He was holding her in a tight embrace when his hand slid down on it's own to her bum and she giggled softly. He quickly removed his hand, but she shook her head at him.
"You don't have to stop."
Harry didn't like his cheeks-they turned against his want to be cool about it and proceeded to burn a deep shade of red.
"Do you want me to touch you there?"
Her eyes glinted spectacularly. "Go ahead and see…"
Very slowly he reached down and felt the rise of flesh beyond the small of her back. Their eyes locked and she scooted up a bit in his grip, bringing her even closer to him. It was muscular but supple at the same time and before he could stop himself he squeezed. Angelina sighed deeply and leaned in to kiss him. Wow, he thought to himself as they rocked back and forth slowly, creasing the sheets on Seamus' bed; their mouths were attached as deeply as their jaws allowed. This is the best study break ever! There was no longer any unsure quivering. What he felt then was hard, intense pressure in his groin and when this happened his throat closed and his head throbbed and he longed to do other things to her. Other things…other things like feel her skin against his skin; see her eyes closed and kiss her in other places besides her mouth and neck…
Angelina sensed his need to keep her pressed against him; she felt him harden in a particular little area she was sitting on and though she wanted very badly to keep going…keep going…his kisses took her breath away…she knew they really shouldn't. Reluctantly, she broke their kiss off and pulled away from him.
"You okay?" she asked after a moment in which they sat catching their breath again. Harry used the time to try and calm himself—try and get control of the things that were happening to his body all over. He was tingling. He merely nodded and ran a hand through his hair, the scarlet heat still in his cheeks. "Wow…" Angelina whispered.
Now they lay very close together on the bed, completely oblivious to anything else but each other. Neither of them wondered or cared why they hadn't been disturbed. Angelina held his hand in hers, her thumb gently running back and forth over the scar that Umbridge's enchanted quill had left him.
"It hurts because…" Harry began thickly, trying to think of the best way to describe this to her. "Well it's what he left me. See when he tried to kill me, he couldn't because my mother…" He could just picture it—the flash of green light. And he heard her scream… "It hurts when he's angry. It hurts when he's close. It connects us."
"He?" Angelina turned her head to look at him, but his gaze was focused on their hands. "You mean…You-Know-Who?" He nodded slowly, still not looking at her. "Harry that is awful. I had no idea…"
He felt her squeeze his hand protectively and it allowed him to let forth the rest of it. Lacing his fingers with hers, Harry quietly explained about Voldemort's hold on him; about his dreams, and about how unbearable it had been for the evil wizard to touch him in that cemetery. He told her about Cedric's death…
It had been the first time he had spoken to anyone aloud about it. As he told her about the horrible flash of green light and the heavy thud with which Cedric's lifeless body had hit the ground, she inched closer and took him into a full embrace, burying her face in his neck. He thought he heard her sniff when he finished: "…it was the most scared I've ever been…" A second later there was a damp feeling on his skin. She was crying for him. He knew then that he had been right to tell her—it felt so good to have someone besides Ron and Hermione understand what he was going through. Someone special…someone all his own.
He had left out Sirius and the Order. He didn't think any one of the members would appreciate him divulging this information without asking them, or at least considering the danger in doing so very carefully. Not that he didn't trust Angelina, but one never knew whose hands information like that could get into if given too freely.
Feeling impossibly relaxed, Harry let his eyes slide closed for a split second that stretched on forever…her warm body against his rose and fell gently with her breath…her vanilla smell lulled him softly…he would have fallen asleep but he suddenly remembered and his eyes flew open.
"Oh no!"
Angelina jumped and sat up with him. "What?"
"I'm late for Potions! Snape is gonna murder me!"
He dashed from the bed and started hastily gathering up his things: shoes, jumper, backpack…
His hair was all over his head when Angelina helped him pull the school jumper roughly down over his torso, but he didn't care. He had no time to be bothered with it. He had to get to the dungeons and fast. He kissed her and hastily muttered: "I'll see you later? If I survive…" when she had unlocked the door for them.
"Harry, wait, you've got-!" He heard her calling to him as he jumped through the portrait hole, but he could not stop. He had seen the clock on the common room wall as he'd been running through and to his horror he was almost half-an-hour late for his most dreaded subject. Snape would show him no mercy.
Harry found himself wildly throwing blame everywhere as he ran: at Ron for not coming to get him when their free period was up, at Angelina for distracting him so much that he forgot about the time (though truthfully he really wasn't angry at that), and even at Hermione for taking so long to gather her things at the end of Professor Bins' class.
"Oh, no you don't, Potter!" Snape hissed, grabbing him by the loose strap of his backpack and yanking him back out through the door when he had tried to slip in unnoticed. Snape had been waiting there for him, he guessed, and now they were standing in the hall just outside. Snape had left the door open a bit—probably to let that sniggering bastard Malfoy and his friends hear him being raked over the coals. "There is absolutely no excuse for your tardiness!"
Harry stood shaking slightly; he was still breathing hard from the running he had done to get there, just to be screamed at. He should have taken his bloody time for all the difference it had made. In order to stay his pressing desire to yell back, he clenched his fists and glared at Snap.
"You will receive a zero for today's lesson and you will have detention with me this Saturday, all day is that clear?"
Harry thought of the Quidditch match but knew that mentioning it would only provoke more yelling. He had really wanted to go and support the team, especially Ron, Ginny, and Angelina, but he could forget about that now.
"Yes sir," he said quietly through clenched teeth.
Snape's eyes boiled with loathing as he growled: "Where is that essay I told you to finish on Strengthening Solutions?" Harry reached a shaking hand into his backpack and pulled out his very crumpled essay. He handed it over to the greasy-haired teacher, who snatched it from him with disgust and shook his head menacingly. "This is a pitiful excuse for parchment, Potter," he continued, snarling at the admittedly poorly treated roll. "I should give you a zero on the assignment just for the state of this thing!"
Then why don't you? Harry thought crossly.
Snape glared at him for a long time. During the silence Harry could hear Malfoy and his gang guffawing madly at his misfortune. Harry tried to ignore it and looked at Snape head on, waiting. The teacher jabbed a finger past the boy back in the direction he had come.
"Leave my sight at once. Go to Professor McGonagall and explain to her why I have just taken fifty points from Gryffindor!"
Harry turned on his heel and prepared to leave, but suddenly Snape seized him by the collar of his shirt and snatched him back with terrible force. Harry struggled in the hold the older man had on him, grimacing at the proximity, but could do nothing as Snape narrowed his eyes and pulled the collar away from his neck. Harry froze. He had not buttoned it up all the way when he was hastily dressing, and Angelina had said something to him…Oh shite, he thought, alarmed.
"What—is—this?"
"I dunno what you're ta-"
Before he could finish sputtering out a lie, he was being snatched into the classroom and roughly made to stand before his peers. Every pair of eyes turned to stare at them as Snape shouted: "Class! Begin your Forget-Me-Not potions and do it silently! Malfoy, see to it that this dungeon is not burned to the ground while I am gone and do not make me regret leaving you in charge, boy."
"Yes, sir," Draco said, failing to hide the evil grin that had spread across his face. "How long will you be gone, professor?"
Harry saw Ron looking at him empathetically. Hermione only looked as though she were struggling with the side of herself that sympathized with her friend and the side that wanted to lecture him for being so late. This struggle seemed to be won by her stern side when Snape pulled Harry's collar even further away from his neck, revealing to the whole class what Angelina's mouth had left on his skin. His cheeks burned awfully as he heard the scattering of laughter at his expense.
"I don't know…it seems Mister Potter has developed some sort of…rash…and is in need of medical attention." Harry fumed at Snape's side, thinking that the greasy git knew very bloody well that he did not have a skin rash. "See that your assignments are finished before I return or I will be docking points from each of your houses, including Slytherin. Turn around and get to work, Draco."
With that, Snape forced Harry back through the door and dragged him by his collar all the way up to McGonagall's classroom. When they arrived, Snape rapped smartly on the door and Minerva's stern voice could be heard telling them to come in. Snape stepped inside, momentarily letting go of Harry's collar. "A word, if I might, professor?" he asked.
A few seconds later, all three of them were standing in the hall. McGonagall crossed her arms and gave Harry a shrewdly disapproving look, her eyes pleading with him to just try and explain why he was getting into so much trouble. First repeated detentions with Umbridge, then being banned from her Quidditch team, and now being dragged to interrupt her class by Snape, her mortal enemy as far as Heads of Houses went.
"What have you done this time, Potter?"
"Mister Potter was thirty minutes late to my class this afternoon." Snape said simply. Harry's heart gave a sigh of relief that he had not mentioned the red mark on his neck….yet.
"Why were you so late to Professor Snape's lesson, Harry?"
"Er…" here it came. Harry shifted on his feet, uncomfortably. "Well, it's true, I was late, but I-I didn't mean to be."
"Oh stop your stalling, boy!" Snape growled. "You came traipsing into my classroom thirty minutes late because you were busy getting lock-jaw with your Quidditch captain!" McGonagall gasped, scandalized. Snape's sneer turned into a smirk as he added: "Or your former Quidditch captain, I should say…I guess she doesn't hold you getting yourself banned from the team against you, does she?"
"I'll deal with him from here, Severus." Minerva said sharply. Snape lost his look of satisfaction and glowered, nodding curtly before turning and sweeping away back down the hall. The boy and his Head of House stood in the hall together in silence for an agonizingly long time before she sighed and adjusted her spectacles. Her eyes flickered up and down at him as if she felt sorry for his blundering thick-headedness. "You've received detention from Professor Snape?"
"Saturday..." he mumbled somewhat bitterly.
"I must say, Potter, you are doing a fine job of closing off every single privilege you have at this school. What next? Will you run naked through the halls?"
"I really didn't mean to be late, Professor!" Harry said a little too childishly.
"Indeed. And is what Professor Snape said true?"
"Er…" Harry shifted on his feet and avoided her gaze. She scoffed at this, probably deducing that in fact, as Snape had accused, Harry had missed half an hour of class because he was making out with Angelina. Even though, in his opinion, it had been worth it, Harry decided to never let that happen again. It was bad enough that the whole Potions class knew why he was late—he was sure the whole school would know by lunchtime if Malfoy had anything to say about it.
"Well I shall have to have a word with Miss Johnson. I expected her, at least, to act responsible, but I see that your fool-headed behavior is rubbing off on her. I am sorely disappointed in you, Potter, you know that? The Quidditch season hasn't even started yet and look at the mess you and George Weasley made!"
"Sorry, M'am..."
McGonagall sighed and checked her watch. "I must be getting back to my class. I suggest you do the same."
"I can't. Professor Snape gave me a zero and dismissed me."
"Oh for Merlin's sake!" she snapped, fed up, and shook a finger at him. "Get your act together, Harry! I mean it! Go and find something academic to do for the remainder of the lesson and don't put another toe out of line, is that clear?"
"Yes, Professor!" Harry turned to flee from her wrath, had a thought, and turned back just as she was opening the door to return to her class. "Um…Professor?"
"What, Potter?"
"D'you think maybe I could go and see Professor Dumbledore now?"
She paused, narrowing her eyes at him thoughtfully. "Perhaps. Fetch him some Pumpkin Pasties, then. And make yourself presentable, will you?"
Without another word she disappeared into the classroom. Harry ran both hands through his wild hair a few times and buttoned his collar all the way; taking care to make sure his jumper was smooth. He looked like Zach Smith. Stuffed up or no, he didn't want Dumbledore seeing his…'mark'. Deciding to take his time since he still had the whole period, Harry made his way up to Dumbledore's office. He felt kind of cool roaming through the empty halls by himself while everyone else was stuck in class. He wondered as he went if Angelina had gotten into trouble as well.