"So…" Ron scratched his head, watching his white chess pieces get into position. "…what d'you reckon I should get Hermione for Valentine's Day?" They were lying on their stomachs in the common room on a Thursday night with Harry's chess set between them.
Harry looked up from his own black pieces, which seemed to be a little punch-drunk and confused as to which side of the board they belonged, and frowned thoughtfully.
He had not actually told Ron about the thing that happened between him and Angelina the week before. They had not had time to really sit down and enjoy a moment of peace until now; for as exam time neared, their homework increased considerably and almost every night fifth and seventh years all over the castle could be found with their heads in their books. Valentine's Day was very soon, a couple of days away in fact, and Harry had been struggling all week to figure out what he wanted to do with Angelina. The holiday coincided with their Hogsmeade weekend. Harry was glad that they'd have the opportunity to escape the tedium of their studies and take a much needed break just as the weather was turning warmer and wetter.
Fred and George were peddling a whole line of "crazy, romantic" gifts. Among these were singing roses and chocolates with mild doses of various love potions in them that, depending on what kind of piece you ate, would result in anything from the sudden urge to spout poetry to your date to simply wanting to snog all day long. Fred told Harry and Ron that some of the boxes had what they called "rogue chocolates" in them; ones that they had spiked with a potion that would turn a bloke's date into an insufferable nag. "It'll be so funny to see who gets one of those," George snickered evilly. "We only made about a dozen."
"What if your date is already an insufferable nag?" Harry asked lazily. The twins didn't have an answer for that.
Harry did not fancy the idea of giving Angelina a singing rose or a chocolate that could potentially turn her into a trumped-up version of an ill-tempered Hermione. The thing was—well Harry could not help feeling that he had played his Ace already. Telling her he loved her (which, by all means, he understood now that he really did) seemed to him like something a bloke should say to his girlfriend for the first time on a day like Valentine's Day. He found himself regretting that he had breathed it on her in the common room while he was trying to get into her knickers. Harry daydreamed now of whispering it to her tenderly as they watched the sun set under a tree or something; telling it to her as they held hands and walked along the High Street in Hogsmeade or something romantic like that. But then he pictured himself shrugging and going, "Remember when I said I loved you that night we were having it off in the common room? Yeah, it wasn't just because of that. I really do." Ugh, how lame!
So now that he had told her he loved her, what was there to do next? Now that they had found this emotion and identified it—claimed it for themselves in their young minds—what were they to do with it?
Truthfully, Harry had no clue. He really wished he could talk to Sirius about it. A good dose of his godfather's romantic view would be much appreciated. Whatever Hermione's theories on the underlining motivation for his feelings, Harry dispelled them and concentrated on what was on the surface—real emotion. He looked at Angelina differently now. She was no longer an older girl who held his hand and walked him through their relationship. She was his equal—his 'woman', as Fred phrased it.
Now what to give his woman for Valentine's Day?
"I have no idea…" Harry said aloud, remembering that they were at play and reaching over to nudge his pawn forward. "I don't even know what I'm gonna do with Angelina. Can't help you there, mate, sorry."
Ron shrugged. His own pawn stumbled a little and fell over—Harry's rook that was conveniently positioned immediately attacked the helpless thing. "Oh, you bloody stupid pawn! What'd you fall over for?" he sighed and shook his red hair in his face moodily. "Hermione hasn't mentioned it at all of course, nor given me any hint whatsoever as to what she'd like—squash him! Yes!"
Harry debated it with himself for a moment, then said, as casually as he could: "I told Angelina I loved her."
Ron stopped midway through egging his knight on in its relentless pummeling of Harry's rook and his mouth dropped open. "You what? When?"
"Last week." Harry felt his damned cheeks growing hot. Still, he tried to sound as nonchalant about the whole thing as possible. "She said she loves me too." He coughed, adding hastily, "We did it…"
"What?"
Several people milling around in the common room looked over at them, and Harry shushed his friend, embarrassed. "Shh…keep your voice down, will you? I don't want the whole Tower to know."
Ron remained staring at Harry in shock for several minutes, actually making the bespectacled boy feel a bit uncomfortable, before closing his mouth slowly and lowering his head to his hands in a miserable slump. "I'm doomed!"
"What?" Harry made a face at the top of Ron's head. "What are you talking about?"
"Harry why did you do that?" Ron raised his head, looking panicked and a little miffed.
Harry scoffed. "Why? Um…are you kidding?"
"Don't you see that if Angelina goes gushing to Hermione that you said you loved her, Hermione'll expect me to say it too? Like, maybe on Valentine's Day? Do you have any idea how much pressure-?"
"Ron, shut up," Harry said, catching on that Ron seemed to be more upset about the 'I love you' part than the sex part. He shook his head at his misguided friend. "Hermione is not that shallow. She knows it's too soon for you guys to be talking about love."
And he started laughing at his friend. Ron blinked at him several times, trying to hang on to his annoyance, but gave up and smiled as he rolled his eyes at himself. "Okay, fine…but if she starts talking about feelings and such I'm gonna feed her one of those snogging chocolates to shut her up."
Something occurred to Harry and he stopped laughing. "Well, how do you feel about her, Ron?"
Ron blinked twice more. "I…I like her."
"That's it?"
"I like her a lot."
"So what's the problem?"
Ron did not have an answer for him. He simply shook his head slowly, as if he couldn't really think there was a problem. A problem, that is to say, beyond his obvious struggle to find himself in a romantic relationship with someone who had been his annoying best friend up until over a month ago. Harry knew how Ron felt, and hoped that things became clearer for him soon.
"Would you look at these stupid things?" Harry gestured to the chessboard, where the pieces on both sides had grown impatient waiting for the boys to make a move and were now attacking each other at random. Ron's knight raised its sword and decapitated Harry's queen with a tiny, vicious battle cry. "I need a new set…" he muttered, watching his queen's head fly off the board and skid to a halt on the rug.
"So…" Ron started like he had earlier, "…you and Angelina actually…did it?"
Harry hesitated, his eyes narrowing past his vision of his queen stumbling around headless, to consider his answer. "Well…I don't really know. We were kind of interrupted..."
"No way! By who?"
"Dobby, but-" Harry was cut off by Ron's rather girlish, shrill giggle. The freckled boy clamped his hands over his mouth and kicked his shoes against the rug, laughing so hard that Harry felt the urge to punch him in the arm. "Okay, okay…yes that's right, laugh it up you git." Harry rolled his eyes and laughed a bit, too.
"S-Sorry…" Ron breathed after a minute or two of snickering. "Sorry, Harry. Bloody hell I wish I had been a fly on the wall at that exact moment. It's a wonder Dobby's eyes didn't pop out from the shock of seeing your white arse-!"
"Shut up!" Harry did punch Ron in the arm, but only managed to cause the other boy to burst into another fit of tearful laughter. He waited impatiently for Ron to calm down again. "You're a prat, you know that?"
"I know. Whew! Okay…enough making fun. So…" Ron got serious and leaned over the chessboard, where pieces all over were dragging their mangled bodies back to their respective corners to recuperate. "What happened before Dobby came in?" His voice wavered with suppressed laughter upon saying Dobby's name but he frowned to make it stop at Harry's threatening look.
"We just, sort of…it's-it's kind of hard to explain. I mean I don't even know if I'm still a…" he lowered his voice even more. "…a virgin anymore. It was so quick…Dobby came in before I could really do anything."
"But did you…?" Ron let the rest of the question hang in the air, his mouth open slightly. He was staring at Harry, completely drawn in. "You know-get in?"
"Yeah." Harry breathed, smiling at the memory of it.
"Then you're definitely not a virgin anymore, mate. Blimey…" Ron's blue eyes widened in awe. "What did it feel like?"
Harry lost his smile, thinking hard about the best way to describe the sensation. Truthfully he could not adequately come up with the right words to explain it, but he gave it a go. "Like…it was very warm and…wet…and…snug. It felt really good."
"Balls and garters, that is so cool!"
Harry felt a surge of pride and lowered his blushing face to the chessboard.
"What's cool?"
Ginny had entered the common room and was now positioning herself cross-legged in front of them on the floor. The boys exchanged glances and both shrugged in unison. "Nothing…" they said. Ginny frowned at them both, looking from one to the other, unconvinced. After a moment of their 'innocent' looks she rolled her eyes.
"Fine, keep your secrets." She looked down at the chessboard. "Harry you'd better give your queen back her head…she's trying to screw your finger onto her neck."
"Um…Harry?"
Angelina sucked her breath in slightly as Harry ran his teeth down the slope of her neck before closing his mouth gently around her soft skin. Discussing those things with Ron produced a need in Harry to find her…and they were on his bed with the crimson canopy curtains drawn. "Hmmm?" he continued kneading her neck with his teeth. His hands roamed, finding the hem of her skirt and sweeping underneath to grasp the mound of flesh awaiting them. She was gripping his shirt collar, one of her legs wrapped around him.
"Uh…ah…about, um, V-Valentine's Day?"
Harry opened his eyes. Shite. He still had no idea what he was going to give her. Candy? No. Roses? Pass. Both were done to death, in his opinion. "Yeah?"
They rested for a moment and she took a breath, not removing her leg from his waist. He also did not let go of her bottom, making lazy circles on her warm skin with his thumb. Angelina bit her lip and smiled apologetically. "I found out today that the pitch'll be open for a practice drill that morning…at least for a couple of hours…"
Harry frowned. "Okay…"
"Well, the team still needs a lot of work, and we haven't had a practice since before break."
"Right."
Angelina sighed and continued in a mater-of-fact tone, "So I signed us up for that time slot. Slytherin's got the pitch for the rest of the day, but I figured if we got in those couple of hours it would warm us up a bit until we could get another slot." Harry found himself struggling with dual reactions; one of annoyance and one of slight relief. On the one hand, he did not like the idea that she was going to use what was supposed to be a special day for the two of them to practice bloody Quidditch. Relentless woman, he thought to himself. On the other, however, he knew that it meant he would have a couple of hours' time to come up with something really special for them later. "Are you angry?"
Harry shook his head slowly, his eyes flickering at her. They landed on her lips and he leaned in and kissed her before she could speak again. So he would use the time that she was working hard on the Quidditch pitch to plan a special, romantic…whatever…and he wouldn't fuss about it. Forgetting about his brief annoyance, Harry slipped his hand into her underwear.
"I promise, I'll…c-come straight to you when we're…f-finished…ohh…" his finger was inside, moving very slowly but very purposefully. He watched her mouth, her eyes, felt her thigh tighten around his waist. Harry was grateful the door was locked—no repeats of the Dobby incident, if you'll please.
"Okay…" he quickened his movements and she buried her face in his neck.
They decided to meet in Hogsmeade after the practice drill and spend the rest of the day together.
Angelina went to bed feeling…good; about Harry, about their relationship, about Quidditch practice, about a lot of things…
There was one thing that rested in the back of her mind, almost hiding from her really, but she left it there until she was ready to fetch it to the light. She knew that eventually she would need to make a decision about Harry's suggestion to go to a teacher about Malfoy. But, who? And when? After so long…she worried it would do little good. And she still could not remember—there, see, she was thinking about it. Much keener to focus on happier things, Angelina spent Friday with her "head in the clouds" as her mother would say.
There were many things keeping her afloat on Valentine's eve, making her dark skin glow and her smile slightly wider. She spent a lot of time reminiscing on Harry's tendency to adopt a husky, altogether more seductive way of speaking to her when they were in each other's arms. His strength now—how he held her with firm possessiveness as of late…the night in the common room had not been her plan. She had simply wanted to give him something to ease his discomfort, then perhaps a few kisses and off to bed. Funny how hands change—it was he who initiated it and damn all she could not resist him. He was changing. For the better! Angelina fancied that she had remained, for the most part, a constant in their relationship; at least in the sense that she had always been the aggressor, even though she scarcely had more experience than he did. Angelina was a confident person; always had been. She found it a bit easier to take the lead in the beginning, but the tide was turning. It was fine by her.
He said he loved her!
Of course…one had to consider the timing…but she really felt he meant it. If she had sensed any insincerity on his part she would not have allowed herself to continue. Besides, Angelina just didn't believe Harry was the sort of person who would lie about something like that just to get in a girl's pants.
"Do you think he meant it?" she had asked Hermione. Funny she seemed to be spending more time with Hermione Granger these days. But her being one of Harry's best friends gave her certain appeal to Angelina that could not be denied. Also, Hermione was a helpful, passionate person who often had wonderful insight when one really needed some.
Hermione smiled. "I think he did. The way he talks about you…he doesn't realize he does it, but his whole demeanor changes. Angelina, you've really affected him." She paused, studying Angelina for a moment before asking, "And do you love him?"
Angelina couldn't help hearing the smallest tone of concern in her voice. "I really think I do…" she scoffed. "Huh. It's so strange…at the beginning of the year I barely knew him. And now…"
And now.
She loved him. She had worried, though she kept these things to herself, that she was not really the kind of girl he wanted. This had always been in the back of her mind. She was, as plainly as one could state it, a tall black girl who played Quidditch and had been 'one of the blokes' for most of their time at Hogwarts together. Extremely competitive, kind of bossy, and monotone most of the time unless she found something truly exciting or felt vulnerable for some reason. She was a girl, yes (and, she had been told, a very attractive one at that) but she spent all six-and-a-half of her school years messing about with Fred and George. She got dirty and she cursed and sometimes people; mostly other girls or boys that particularly annoyed her; accused her of being mean. She had a dark, milk-chocolate complexion and thick, long black hair that she often wore in a ponytail to escape the bother. She was curvy in places that other girls weren't. One place (the last place she would ever have thought he'd be so fond of, truth be told) had been appointed Harry's favorite place, and it was all very funny to her.
When Angelina thought of the kind of girls Harry should've been attracted to, she thought of girls like Cho. Sweet girls who smiled more often; girls with fair complexions and softer bodies. Girls his own age. Angelina was not blind. She saw these girls all the time, stealing glances at him in the halls and during meals and they probably gushed over him in all his classes, too. Pavarti Patil had been so beside herself when he'd asked her to the Ball, it was embarrassing for Angelina to watch, really. There were blonde girls and girls with gorgeous red hair (she fancied she saw Harry's appreciative gazes at Ginny Weasley a few times); girls who were his height that seemed to be intelligent who spoke to him every day with a hopeful gleam in their eyes. Girls that, truthfully, Angelina thought might just…fit more…with him.
Hmmm…but no. Harry chose her. Harry kissed her and held her and called her his Angel and…loved her for who she was.
He made her happy. He was a sweet boy, a strong boy. He had a dark, saddening past and he lived his life under the (at times) very malicious scrutiny of everyone around him. She admired his courage and envied his talent. It was not hard at all to fall for Harry Potter. As shy as he was sometimes, as volatile as he could be, as headstrong as he became when it concerned what he thought was right—those were all the things that drew her to him.
And. And, and, and…there was a surprising bonus. When she saw, even though she only got a small glimpse the other night under the flickering light of the fire, what Harry Potter carried around with him all day long extended to its full length as it came toward her, she had to hold back an astonished gasp—for it was a wonder the boy felt comfortable sitting on a broom at all.
On the morning of Valentine's Day, Angelina woke up early and roused Katie and Alicia. She was feeling very cheerful. She hummed to herself softly while she showered, wondering what on earth she and Harry would do when they met up; though she had an idea, and she snickered wickedly as she lathered her sponge.
"My boyfriend is upset that we're practicing today, I hope you know, Angelina…" Katie said as they dressed.
"Well you should've told him he'll have plenty of opportunity to feed you Snogging Chocolates later this afternoon, then." Angelina dodged a flying pillow and the girls finished dressing.
She was confronted, as soon as she stepped into the common room, by a singing rose. Fred held it up to her, and it bellowed in Latin with a loud, operatic tenor. "La, la, la, la, laaaaa! Mi amor!"
"Happy Valentine's Day troll face." The twins chimed, each kissing her on either cheek. Angelina laughed and took the rose, hugging them both in turn before pulling out her wand and casting a Silencio. They acted affronted, their mouths dropping open. "It's a lovely rose, but honestly that singing will give a girl a headache."
"True enough…" Fred agreed. "But that's why we love the little guys so much."
"That and they've made us a fortune," George added. "They can sing in four different languages, you know. You've just ruined a really good charm."
"You'll live. Happy Valentine's Day, you two." She frowned when she realized that it was a Saturday at nearly eight in the morning and they were the only ones in the common room, besides a couple of Quidditch team members looking sleepy and ill-tempered. "Why are you up so early?"
"Oh we've got work to do," George said conspiratorially. "Making a new batch of products today. No girly love stuff for us, no sir."
"Be careful, please?"
"Of course, quit your nagging. Go off and practice." There was a bit of a wistful shadow in their eyes as they looked at her Quidditch robes, causing her to kiss them both and whisper her thanks again for the rose.
Angelina carried the rose upstairs to the boys' dorms, where she slipped into Harry's and Ron's room silently. They were all still asleep, including, Angelina was not pleased to see, her Keeper and one of her Chasers. She frowned at Ron and Dean's slumbering forms under their scarlet covers and decided to allow them to wake up on their own—they knew not to be late to practice. She walked over to Harry's bed, where he was lying all twisted up like he had attempted to turn over and lay on his back sometime during the night but only his upper half obliged. His legs lay at an awkward angle sideways while his torso was flat on the mattress, his arms open. His chest rose and fell slowly…his breathing was deep and soft.
Angelina set the rose on his windowsill and reached down to stroke his disheveled hair. He twitched and rolled over completely on his side, taking a deep sighing breath before settling into sleep again. Angelina smiled at him and knelt down to the side of the bed, resting her arms on the mattress and her head on her arms.
"Harry…" she whispered. He opened his eyes slowly. "Happy Valentine's Day."
Though he was still in the dregs of sleep, Harry smiled lethargically and leaned over to kiss her on the lips. He lay there, his eyelids not willing to completely reveal the vivid green she so loved looking into. "Happy Valentine's Day, Angelina…" He kissed her again and yawned.
"I'm headed for breakfast, then the pitch," she told him, lifting her fingers to play with a lock of hair that had fallen over his eye. "You need a haircut."
"I don't like haircuts."
"So I see…" Angelina chuckled and kissed him several times all over his face before standing up from her kneeling position. "I'll meet you in a few hours?"
"Okay. Where?" Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes, yawning again. "Shall we say the Three Broomsticks?"
"Sure."
"Like noon-ish?"
"A little after noon, but yeah."
He looked disappointed for a split second, but nodded. "Have a good practice, then."
"Thanks," she turned to leave, reaching the door before her heart gave a pleasant little quiver and she turned back. "Harry?"
"Huh?"
"I love you."
He grinned, and even from across the room she could see his eyes sparkle with 'aw shucks' contentment. He looked around to make sure none of his roommates were awake to take the mickey out of him before uttering, "I love you too."
Harry considered how he would dress for the day very carefully when he finally got up.
The clean, white cotton tee shirt, crisp black button down shirt worn open, and the only pair of jeans he owned that were not baggy hand-me-downs from Dudley made the cut. He didn't really own any casual dress shoes, so he cleaned off his Chucks as best he could and put them on.
His hair, well…his attempts to flatten it failed, so he simply ran his hands through it a few times until it did something as close to behaving like normal hair as it ever would. Every now and then he fussed with it nervously, but without any real hope of it doing what he wished. After a quick polishing of his glasses, Harry turned to Dean and Neville, raising his arms as if to say 'tadaaa!'
"How do I look?"
Dean tapped his chin with his finger thoughtfully and then gave Harry a thumbs up. Neville smiled and shrugged. "Not bad, there, Harry," he said awkwardly. It was maybe the most words Neville had spoken to him in weeks. "Nice touch with the dress shirt."
"Thanks, Neville!"
"You look like a prat," Ron muttered from behind Harry.
Harry turned around to see his best friend pulling his Quidditch shirt over his head. He blew his red hair out of his face and reached down to grab his boots, not looking at his friend. "What's your problem?" Harry asked, self-consciously smoothing his hair again.
Ron offered him a bitter glance before rolling his eyes and harshly lacing up his worn-in Quidditch boots. "Oh nothing. Just that you get to go off and enjoy the day while I'm stuck at practice. And I still haven't figured out what in bloody hell I'm gonna give my girlfriend."
Dean chuckled. "You and me both, mate."
"Shut up, Dean."
"Touch-ee!" Dean shrugged and threw his boots over his shoulder by the laces, trudging out of the room without another word, a slightly amused smile on his lips.
Harry sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "You know, I would love to be going where you're going this morning…"
Ron finished lacing his boots and stood up from the edge of his bed. He looked at Harry, still not softening. "Yeah, well, I would love that too. So Angelina would let me quit the team and you can be all brilliant like you usually are."
Harry opened his mouth to retort but Ron grabbed his broom and stalked away from him, through the door. He looked to Neville and Seamus. Both of them shook their heads and continued dressing.
Harry and Ron didn't say much to each other at breakfast. Ron knew perfectly well that Harry missed Quidditch with a passion, as did Harry that Ron wished he were a better player. So with these things understood but not spoken, the two boys ate in silence. Hermione joined them as Harry was buttering a piece of toast.
"Morning," she smiled and leaned over the table to kiss Ron on the lips. He turned slightly pinker than usual and muttered 'happy Valentine's Day' while she was settling herself on the bench. "Happy Valentine's Day to you, too, grumpy."
Harry scoffed and bit into his toast, drawing a 'grumpy' look from Ron. After a moment in which Harry chewed thoughtfully and Hermione stirred her porridge, Ron sighed and cleared his throat. "Ok, so—Hermione, what do you want to do today when I get out of practice, then?" he said it quickly, in one breath, and the pink tinge in his cheeks deepened slightly.
"Oh, um…" she smiled at him. "I don't know. What would you like to do?"
Harry suddenly felt as if he were a third wheel. It was an awkward feeling.
"Er…" Ron looked down at his eggs as if for an answer. "Well I heard about this place-"
Just then the post owls arrived, swooping in through the open windows. An unfamiliar brown and gray owl landed neatly in front of Hermione and she dropped her spoon into her porridge bowl, shooting her hand out for the letter the owl was carrying.
"Oh about time! If it hadn't come today…" Harry and Ron watched, confused, as she read the letter over quickly. When she had finished, she looked up at Harry urgently. "Harry, will you do me a huge favor?"
"Sure…"
"Meet me at the Three Broomsticks around twelve-thirty?"
Harry frowned. "Well, I was supposed to meet up with Angelina there at that same time. What's this all about?"
"I promise it'll be fast, but it's really important. I don't have time to explain it, now. Angelina won't mind, will she? Please?"
"Um…okay then."
"Great! I've got to answer this quickly…" She was on her feet suddenly. "Listen Ron, we can figure out what we're doing later, all right?"
"Yeah, all right…"
"Have a great practice, see you later!" And she was off again, walking briskly towards the entrance, having stolen Harry's toast right out of his hands.
"Well…that's settled, then." Ron stood up from the table and Harry, not having any toast to finish, did as well. The two of them made their way out of the Great Hall. They ran into Hagrid, who looked even worse than when they'd last seen him. His face was bruised all over, with some glistening cuts under his eye and on his forehead. He was also wearing a bandage around his left hand.
"All righ', you two?" Hagrid greeted them, attempting to smile without hurting himself.
"Hey, Hagrid," the boys chimed. Ron grimaced at the state of the large man as they fell into slow steps with him towards the oak front doors. "What are you carrying?"
Hagrid looked down at the creaky bucket he was holding in his good hand. "Oh, it's chili powder. Salamanders' got scale rot."
"You're not coming down to Hogsmeade?" Harry asked as they stepped out into the bright, cool day.
"Nah. Looks like it migh' rain…But you go on an' enjoy yerself. Got anythin' special planned?"
Both boys shrugged and Hagrid frowned at them for a moment before lifting the bucket in farewell and lumbering down the hill that led to his cabin. "He looks awful…" Ron muttered. Harry nodded his agreement.
They stood shuffling their feet for several seconds, and then Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "H-Have a good practice, okay Ron?" he offered his friend a smile.
"Cheers, mate. See you later."
Harry watched Ron walk away towards the path that led to the pitch. He found himself feeling very envious of his friend just then. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Ron at all…Harry just really, really missed flying. He looked up, where he could see a few players already hovering or zooming around over the pitch in the distance. He knew one of them was Angelina. Ron disappeared down the path, and Harry stood there watching the players fly around for several moments, his chest swelling.
"You really miss it, don't you?"
He turned at the sound of her sweet voice, and saw Cho standing there, smiling serenely at him. He smiled back. She looked very pretty with her hair tied back. She was wearing a red skirt. "Yeah…I really do."
"You're on your way to Hogsmeade?"
"Yep. You?"
"Uh huh. I was supposed to go with some friends, but they've all got…well…you know. Boyfriends and stuff."
Harry watched her blush and look down at her shoes. "Well who needs them? I'll walk you down there if you want."
"Er…d-don't you have plans with Angelina?"
"Oh, well I'm meeting her later, but she's out there at the moment." He nodded his head towards the pitch in the distance. "So I'm on my own for a couple of hours, if you wanna have a look at some shops or get some butterbeer or something."
"Okay!" she brightened and her smile came back. They fell into step with each other down the incline that divided the path to Hagrid's cabin from the path that led to the pitch. They talked of Quidditch and the World Cup as they descended, the sun casting a cool white light over the grounds. There was a slight breeze in the air. Harry couldn't see what Hagrid was talking about when he mentioned rain; the sky looked very bright and clear in his opinion. He found that it was much easier for him to talk to Cho now. He could scarcely recall what his problem had been the year before—she was a funny, sweet, easy-going girl that didn't seem that intimidating anymore. She laughed and tossed her ponytail at something he said just as they were reaching the queue of students being checked out through the gate by Filch. "There's a rumor they'll set off more soon," she was saying, lowering her voice when they got in line.
Harry furrowed his brow. "Where'd you hear that?"
"Oh just around. I wonder what the next ones will spell out…" she was referring to the Weasley's Wildfire Whizbangs fireworks display people seemed to think would make another appearance at Hogwarts soon.
Harry laughed and opened his mouth to suggest a particularly funny slogan they could use for another Umbridge display when Pansy Parkinson and a gang of mean-faced Slytherin girls came strolling down the gravel carriageway towards them. Upon sight of Harry and Cho, Pansy sneered and crossed her arms, fixing them with what Harry thought looked like an impersonation of Malfoy's usual 'I'm better than you' stare.
"When the beanpole's away, the boys will play, huh Potter? Eww, what are you doing with Chang?" she said loudly, causing several kids in line to turn and look at them curiously. Her gang of airheads giggled stupidly. "Ha ha, I guess your girlfriend would rather practice than spend Valentine's Day with you!"
Harry simply watched her and her friends laugh at them, trying to do as Hermione suggested to him so many times and control his temper. He was aware that Cho had turned a deep shade of pink next to him and that her fists were balled up at her sides. "Just ignore them…" he tried under his breath. But she was shooting daggers at Pansy.
"Whatcha got to say, Chang?" Pansy asked threateningly. When Cho said nothing, she added, "Chang and Potter, what a perfect couple! You know, Potter, you'd better be careful—boys are just dying to be with Chang!"
The girls screamed with laughter. Harry stepped forward automatically, heat rising to his temples, though he didn't really know what he was prepared to do to a gaggle of girls with Filch standing mere feet away. The old coot was pretending not to hear Pansy at all, but Harry knew perfectly well that she was speaking loud enough to reach the front of the line. Harry barely had his mouth open before Cho whipped out her wand and aimed it at Pansy.
"Shut up!" she yelled. "You shut up or I'll hex you so good your own mother won't recognize your snotty face!" Harry turned, mildly awestruck, to see Cho's nostrils flaring angrily. He wasn't surprised to see that this did little to diminish her prettiness.
Pansy had clamped her mouth shut and was now staring at Cho with fright in her eyes.
"Miss Chang!" It was McGonagall, who was now descending the incline and making her way towards them, her robes fluttering in the breeze. She stopped near Pansy and her friends, peering at Harry and Cho over the top of her spectacles. "Put your wand away this instant or I will march you straight back up to the castle to serve detention with Mr. Filch for the rest of the day."
"B-But they-!" Cho sputtered, still glaring at Pansy.
"Wand away, Miss Chang." Reluctantly, slowly, Cho put her wand away again. McGonagall jabbed a finger toward the queue, indicating that Pansy and her friends should join it. "I suggest you girls get in line, quietly, or I'm afraid you won't be able to visit Hogsmeade today."
"Yes, Professor…" The girls joined Harry and Cho at the back of the line as McGonagall stood watching them all for several seconds. When she was satisfied that no more trouble would surface, she marched ahead to join Filch at the gate. As soon as McGonagall was gone, however, Pansy leaned forward and whispered nastily: "Better watch that temper, Chang. Barking like a dog makes you even uglier than you already are. And when Potter dumps you, who's gonna wanna be your boyfriend then?" She snickered at her own hollow wit.
Harry turned around, getting right in her face. "I didn't happen to see your boyfriend around anywhere, Parkinson. I suspect he got sick of you running your stupid mouth all the time, right? At least Cho has someone besides a bunch of stupid girls to be with on Valentine's Day."
Pansy glared at him. "For your information," she said in a shaky voice. "Draco has Quidditch practice-"
"Not right now, he doesn't." Cho cut her off, now adopting a bitter smile. "No, I'll bet he's off snogging his other girlfriend and the two of them are laughing about what an idiot you are! I know it for a fact!"
Pansy made a horrible face and went to lunge at Cho, but Cho was too quick for her. She whipped her wand out again quick as a flash; this time very covertly, so no one but the three of them saw it. The line was moving. Cho and Harry backed up as it did.
"See you around, Parkinson." Harry waved. Cho stowed her wand away again and turned around with Harry to move along innocently, leaving Pansy snarling at their backs. "That was brilliant, Cho." Harry chuckled and bumped her lightly with his arm. She grinned at him.
"Yeah…my reflexes are improving, thanks to you."
They got checked out by Filch and McGonagall before continuing on down the gravel drive and into Hogsmeade Village. The subject of what Pansy would look like in various animal forms carried them all the way down to the High Street, where many students were milling about among the villagers. The day still seemed bright and cool and sunny. Harry ran a hand through his hair and gestured for Cho to follow him. They saw flyers posted up in most of the shop windows warning people about the ten Death Eaters that escaped Azkaban. Harry and Cho stopped in front of a shop window with a particularly large poster on it. Harry's eyes were once again drawn to the picture of Bellatrix Lestrange, who stared back at him menacingly. Cho said something about the absence of Dementors in the village and he tore his eyes away, looking around with her.
"Last year, when that Sirius Black escaped, they were everywhere, remember?"
Harry nodded faintly. "Yeah…"
He knew now with certainty that Dumbledore was right—the Dementors were on Voldemort's side again.
"So…what do you want to do?"
Harry was brought out of his thoughts and he looked over at Cho, whose hair was shining in the white sunlight. He really needed to find something to buy for Angelina, but how to mention this? Maybe I shouldn't, he thought. Maybe I should just go around to some shops with her and if I find something for Angel I'll just buy it. That settled, Harry answered her. "Um, d'you wanna just walk around? There's a few places I still haven't been."
"Okay, then."
So they walked along the High Street, talking about various things, Quidditch prominent among them. Cho reminded Harry of the time Wood yelled at him to stop being a gentlemen and knock her off her broom during one of their matches third year. He kept his eyes peeled as they stepped into a couple of warm, dusty shops for anything Angelina might like. He thought he saw a nice locket but when Cho saw him looking at it she tried it on, and he realized upon a more careful inspection that it wasn't something he could picture Angelina wearing. He bought them both giant strawberry licorice sticks at Honeydukes Sweetshop.
They were about to turn onto another street to look for more shops there when Harry felt the wind change and then the sky darkened. He looked up and was immediately hit in the eye with a large, cold drop of rain.
"Oh no…" Cho said through a mouthful of licorice. "Is it going to-?"
And then it simply started—the rain came down in a huge sheet upon them, pelting the pavement loudly. Harry and Cho dropped their licorice wands and he lifted his arm to protect her hair as they ran for it. "Where are we going?"
Cho looked around hastily and then pointed to a tea shop nearby that looked warm and inviting. "How about Madame Puddifoot's?"
"Angelina, look out!"
Angelina turned just in time to see that a bludger was heading straight for her face. She swerved out of its path right before it would've collided with her, probably breaking her nose, and it zoomed past her into the stands. It circled around the Hufflepuff tower and came back, but Kirk was already on his way to catch it, and he pummeled it with his bat.
"Thanks, Kirk!"
He nodded and swept away. They had been practicing for most of the morning when the rain started, and Angelina was looking up at the thunder clouds resentfully when the bludger had come her way. The whole team was now struggling to get through the scrimmage they'd started up, even though the rain was now falling so hard that they could barely see each other through sheets of the stuff as it cascaded down on them. Angelina watched Ron nearly fall off his broom as he swerved to attempt a save, and she was struck with a strong feeling of dé ja vous. She soared around them, trying to pick each member out through the rain, but it was doing no good. They would have to stop.
The sky had grown darker and the thunder was rumbling, every now and then crackling loudly so that their shouts to each other were drowned out. Angelina snatched her whistle to her mouth when she saw Ron miss yet another save and blew on it hard. Ginny, who was hovering near her, had just made a grab for the Snitch; how in the world that girl could see it through all that rain was beyond Angelina. She missed it and it zoomed away, but Angelina shook her head and called out, "It's too much, we have to stop here!"
Everyone closed in to a tight circle in the middle of the pitch, and Angelina shouted at them as best she could whilst her soaking hair fell into her eyes and her robes sagged over her broom, making it harder for her to control her hover.
"Listen, we've all made a good effort today, but it's bloody brutal out here! Maybe we can come back tonight after dinner if you guys-?"
"NO!" they all shouted at her in unison, for most of them had late Valentine's Day plans and even those who didn't wanted some peace after being beaten up by the rain for the last leg of their three and a half hour practice drill. They all touched down and trudged along the soggy grass. Ron and Dean carried the trunk and Angelina followed them off the pitch, feeling very disappointed. Although they had gotten in some good time with clear skies, they hadn't really gotten all the way back into the swing of things before the rain started. If only we'd gotten a little more time…she thought, kicking at a small puddle.
"S'ok, Angelina," Ginny said next to her as they entered the tunnel. "We still have weeks before the match. We'll be ready."
Angelina smiled at the girl, though that optimism hadn't quite reached her yet.
They stored their things in their lockers, none of them wanting the hassle of lugging their brooms and bags up to the castle in the rain. Angelina saw Ron dejectedly sitting down on one of the benches, looking at Harry's locker for a moment before sighing and kicking his own shut with the tip of his boot. She thought about saying something to him, but realized that maybe he might just want to be alone with his thoughts. After all, it was often that she and the others would try to encourage him or dismiss his self-deprecation and he almost always resisted their efforts. She thought maybe this time she would leave him be.
Angelina shook her wet hair out of her face and made her way out of the changing room. She was walking down the tunnel when she heard voices ahead of her, and at first thought that some of her team members had lingered to walk with her. But as she got closer, she realized that the voices were coming from the Slytherin locker room.
"I'm fine, Montague." Draco's voice.
"You look like you're about to fall over, Malfoy." Montague's hard-edged monotone reached her ears. "How are you gonna be fit to play, or even practice for that matter? You're as pale as a crab's belly." There was a pause. "Was it really bad? I mean…what did it feel like?"
"What do you think, idiot?"
"Sorry. But, honestly, how many times did he-?"
"Shut up about it, all right?" They had emerged from the locker room and were now walking ahead of her, their gear strapped on, carrying their brooms. Malfoy did indeed look, even from behind, very pale and he was walking much slower than Montague. "I said I'll be fine. Besides…" Angelina followed them and they slowed their pace, stopping just at the tunnel opening, where they could see the sheets of rain pelting the grass hard. Malfoy gestured with his broom. "I wouldn't be worrying about me right now."
"You're afraid of a little rain?" Montague scoffed. She could see his jaw lift into a smile from behind. "That's why those Gryffindor losers don't stand a chance against us, even if Johnson has got her stupid playbook back. They tuck tail and run, even against something as silly as rain…"
"Is that right, Montague?"
The boys turned around to spot her. She crossed her arms and glared at Montague, who was still smiling snidely. Draco straightened himself up upon sight of her, attempting to look a good deal more healthy and strong than he was. His face was almost completely devoid of color. His eyes were very pale blue. He looked so sick…
"Yeah, that's right Johnson. I saw your Keeper couldn't even stay on his broom when this started up," he gestured behind him to the cascade outside the tunnel. A roar of thunder erupted and he laughed. "He'll have to do better than that if McGonagall wants to keep her bony old claws on the Cup."
"That Cup isn't going anywhere." She stepped right up to Montague, ignoring Malfoy's unusual silence, staring him down. "So you go have fun in the rain like the child you are, and I'll see you at the match."
"Who are you calling a child, Johnson?" Montague gritted, stepping up to her. He was much bigger than her but she had her wand and she knew that he could not be faster. Thank Harry for the D.A.—she would hex him good if he tried anything.
"I thought I made myself clear, or was I speaking too fast for you?"
He balled up his fist and snarled at her but she did not back down.
"Hey, let's go, we're getting soaked out 'ere!" someone bellowed from the pitch.
Montague's eyes didn't leave hers as he backed up. "Come on, Malfoy, leave her."
Angelina watched Montague run out into the rain, leaving Malfoy standing there in the dark tunnel with her. She turned her gaze to him. He was staring at her still, not speaking and looking so very pale. Angelina was on the point of walking out herself when he moved, stepping towards her. She stopped in her tracks, reaching for her wand that was tucked into her robes. "Don't you come near me."
A slight smile played at his lips. "Are you afraid of me, Johnson?"
"Hardly."
Draco raised his chin, regarding her coolly, his eyes sparkling. "So I guess Potter gave you back your precious playbook."
She was caught off her guard by the comment, and momentarily confused by his indirect acknowledgement that he'd stolen it. But then again it didn't seem too beyond him. She doubted he cared much about it any more, especially in the face of whatever it was he was currently dealing with.
"Yes he did," she answered somewhat defiantly.
He scoffed at her, and the slight grimace that accompanied it was not lost on her. Though she could not tell if this was due to what he said next, or if it was because he was in pain. "Then you probably saw what was in it."
"Yes..."
Draco gave a small chuckle then. He was laughing at himself, she could tell, and this really threw her for a loop. He shook his head slowly. "Such a waste…my father was right. I was really stupid."
"What are you talking about?"
"You read what I wrote?"
"Yes I did."
"Then you understand what I mean." He took another step towards her. She stiffened, fixing him with a warning look.
"What is your problem? Don't you get it? I am with Harry, and You-Know-Who will surrender to Dumbledore before I ever think twice about you!"
"What the hell is so special about Potter?" He spat, grimacing again. "You're a pureblood, and if you weren't a bloody Gryffindor you'd be all right."
"What does that have to do with anything? Why are you doing this, haven't you gotten bored with this game yet?"
"Don't be stupid, Johnson. Why do you think I bother with you at all? You think I waste my time on you because it's fun?" He smiled again suddenly, and added: "Well sometimes it's fun, but…"
"What?" she snapped hotly. "If you're talking about-!"
"Admit it. You don't remember everything, but I know you remember what counts." He stepped closer. "And there's a part of you Johnson…deep down inside…you liked being roughed up didn't you? 'Else why've you kept quiet about it for so long? You didn't even tell Potter at first!" He laughed at her now. "He had to find out by spying on us!"
"Merlin…" Angelina shook her head slowly at him, completely gobsmacked by his audacity. "You need help, Draco. Something is seriously wrong with you. You're all mixed up…"
"Oh you think I'm mixed up, do you? Think I'm confused? Think I'm a nutter like your precious Pottykins?" He was mocking her now and she could see that what she said affected him. He scoffed again. "You're not listening to me, Johnson."
He had lost his smile and was watching her very intensely, his eyes practically peeling off every layer of clothing she wore boldly as he backed her into the wall. She watched as his hand came up, very slowly, and his cold touch approached her cheek. Angelina was frozen in place, wanting to get him away from her and run for it but not being able to make herself move.
"I don't give a damn about Potter. I don't even think I care what my father says. I just know what I want and I can't stand it anymore. Angelina…" he called her by her first name.
They heard Montague's whistle, heard some voices over the pounding sound of rain shouting, "Where the bloody hell is Malfoy?"
He was standing very close to her, now. His eyes flickered down to her lips…this gesture was so familiar. Angelina felt a bit panicked. She had been in this position before, only…She wanted so badly to kick him but for pity's sake she was glued to the wall, watching from the outside—like watching two different people rather than Draco and herself. She was unaware of her breathing, which was heavy and her chest was rising and falling hard. This seemed to excite him; his eyes gleamed dangerously. Draco exhaled warm breath on her.
"I want you."
"Draco stop it."
She felt him take hold of her arms firmly. The panic was rising in her chest, heading for her throat. Why couldn't she move, damn it?
"Did you hear me, Angelina? I said…I want you." He leaned in and a second later his lips were pressed against hers. Then came his tongue, very harshly, his cold skin giving her chills. Angelina's brain clicked slowly into place like the combination dial on a safe and she finally sprang into action, pushing him off of her.
Draco fell roughly to the ground, his face contorted in pain. At first he did not attempt to get up, and she could see that the fall had hurt him. She had no sympathy. The anger was rising now, replacing the panic. "Are you hurt?" she spat furiously, "Good! Whatever your father did to you, you deserved it!"
"You shut your mouth!" he growled, saliva running over his bottom lip and sweat springing to the surface of the skin on his forehead. "You have no idea…urghhh…" he closed his eyes as he hugged his stomach with one of his arms, the other arm supporting him as he struggled to rise to his feet again.
"Angelina, what's going on…?" Angelina's breath caught in her throat as she turned to see Ron approaching them down the tunnel, his red hair a vibrant contrast to the darkness surrounding him. His eyes shifted from her to Draco and he immediately dropped his bag and reached into the folds of his robes for his wand. "Malfoy-!"
"No, I'm fine, Ron." Angelina reassured him quickly, holding a hand up to settle him as he aimed his wand at the fallen Draco.
"Go on put your wand away, Weasel," Draco uttered shakily, his eyes still closed to the torment in his body. "We both know you're no better at using it than you are at Quidditch."
"Your father been hitting you with a little Cruciatus, Malfoy? Getting you ready to join him and his fellow Death Eaters, I expect." Ron spoke very quietly, his blue eyes burning. Draco's own eyes flew open and he glared at Ron. "I don't need to use my wand against you. You're obviously done for."
Without another word and a somewhat hard glance at Angelina, Ron picked up his bag again, stepped over Draco's crumbled body, and walked out into the rain. Angelina stared down at the boy for a moment, putting two and two together, before turning to follow her Keeper.
The little shop was very warm and very pink.
It reminded Harry, very unpleasantly, of Umbridge's office. There were small round tables cluttering the little space, each with only two chairs. Cherubs fluttered above the tables where there were couples sitting, sprinkling handfuls of glittering pink and red confetti over their heads. Harry wiped the fog from the warmer temperature off his glasses with the back of his arm and pushed his damp hair out of his face. "Um…shall we just sit by the window over there?"
"Okay." He and Cho weaved precariously through the tiny spaces between the tables and squeezed into seats on either side of a table by the shop window. A Cherub came flittering over to them and Harry frowned at it, ducking his head out of the way as it tossed a handful of confetti at him. "Isn't it nice in here?" Cho asked, smiling at the Cherub and laughing a little when it tossed her some confetti. Little squares of red and pink got stuck in her hair and on her cheek. "It's all decorated for Valentine's Day."
"Sure." Harry lied, scooting his chair up awkwardly.
Madame Puddifoot, a plump woman with black hair pulled into a neat little ball at the top of her head, came bustling up to them, smiling sweetly. "What can I get for you, dears?"
"Two coffees, please." Cho answered cheerfully.
"Won't be a moment!" And she was off again.
Silence fell once Madame Puddifoot had left them. Harry saw the confetti on Cho's cheek and smiled. "Here, you've got…" he leaned over and brushed the glittering things away softly with his fingertips.
She blushed furiously and muttered 'thanks', looking down at the table. Harry became aware that Cho and himself were the only two people there who were not a couple. Looking around, he saw many pairs of hands being held, many lips touching, and felt very uncomfortable suddenly. He felt his cheeks getting hot as his gaze fell on Roger Davies, the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, who was leaning over to kiss his girlfriend, a pretty blonde girl. Harry snatched his eyes away and looked at Cho, who was watching him with a funny expression on her face. He cast about for something to say but the only thing that came tumbling out of his mouth was, "D-Do you know what time it is?"
Cho's expression changed and she looked down at her watch. "Ten past noon. Why?"
"I've got to meet Angelina and Hermione at the Three Broomsticks in a little bit."
"Oh." He thought he saw her face fall.
"You can come with me if you want. We can all have lunch together."
"Oh…okay then." She didn't seem very enthused about it. To his dismay, she turned and gazed over at Roger Davies and his girlfriend a bit enviously. Harry was glad when their coffee arrived. He tried to keep the conversation going; tried to drown out the faint kissing sounds starting to echo from the tables around them. He was painfully aware that last year he would've given anything to be snogging Cho Chang in this steamy little tea shop on Valentine's Day but he was determined not to think of that. It was in the past. He kept repeating this to himself as they talked about how horrible Umbridge was. It was last year. We're friends now, and I love Angelina. She has to know that, right?
Silence fell again as their abuse of Umbridge ran out of steam. Cho sipped from her coffee, her eyes flickering over to Roger Davies' table again. Harry sat up in his chair, having finished his coffee, and tried to look out the window, but it was all steamy from the warmth in the shop. He only had a few more minutes and then he had to go and meet Hermione and Angelina.
"So what are you and Angelina going to do today?"
"Er…I really haven't figured that out yet," Harry answered honestly. "I was supposed to be using the time she was practicing to think of something, but…" he trailed off, running a hand through his hair, and noticed too late that perhaps he shouldn't have phrased it that way.
"I'm sorry if I distracted you," Cho muttered.
"Oh, no, you didn't at all! I had fun looking around with you."
"Really?" her shining eyes widened hopefully.
"Yeah!"
"Me, too." She was very pretty. Her cheeks were so delicate, and when she blushed the color in them was a very nice rose tint. If only he had been able to get his courage up last year… "I like spending time with you, Harry."
"Thanks." Harry cleared his throat, really wishing that Roger and his girl would give it a rest already. Would Angelina want to sit in a place like this and snog for hours? Probably not. Knowing her, she would probably rather skip the confetti and tuck in his bed with the curtains drawn. He was unaware that he was smiling wickedly until Cho asked him what was funny. "Huh? Oh…I was just thinking about what you said to Pansy about Malfoy being off with another girl. Brilliant. Is that really true?"
Cho hesitated, then shook her head quickly. "I just made that up."
"Oh…well it was good. The look on her face was too much."
Another pause came, and Harry saw her hand lying on the table. It seemed dangerously close to his. To mask his need to separate them, Harry reached back and took hold of his empty coffee mug, looking down into it blankly.
"When do you think we'll learn Patronus Charms?" Cho whispered, leaning closer to him across the table. Harry looked around to make sure no one had heard her.
"Soon…"
"I'm really excited. Hermione told me yours is really brilliant."
"Yeah…"
"Harry you're such a good teacher." She was leaning a little closer to him than he would've liked, and he didn't really wish to be talking about the D.A. around so many people. He shrugged. "You are! Everyone thinks so."
"Your friend Marietta doesn't."
"Oh," Cho leaned back again, to his relief. "Well…I told you she's just going through some stuff."
"Like what?" Harry couldn't help being a little annoyed. "I doubt it's taking her this long to get over Zach Smith. She just doesn't like me, why don't you admit it?" He wasn't trying to be snappy with her, he just wanted her to stop making excuses for her friend and agree that yes Marietta hated Harry's guts and she didn't belong in the D.A. at all.
"What's your problem with her?" Cho asked, frowning at him. "She's not a bad person."
"She's the one with the problem, Cho. I mean, she's constantly late to…" he lowered his voice, leaning forward just as Cho had a moment ago. Their Cherub's wings buzzed, slightly covering his next words. "…she's constantly late to meetings and she gives me a hard time whenever I even speak to her!"
"She doesn't mean to. She's confused, all right? Her mother works at the Ministry and-and she feels guilty about being there."
"Then maybe she shouldn't be there."
"You can't just kick her out!"
"Why not? I'm the leader, and if I don't think someone is right for-"
"Harry, she's my best friend!" To his shock and confusion, Cho's eyes sprouted tears. He leaned back in his chair again, his mouth dropping open. The rain outside was still coming down pretty hard. There was silence again for a moment, in which there was nothing but the rain, the flapping Cherub's wings, and Roger's lips smacking against the pretty blonde girl's. "S-She's the only person I could talk to after Cedric…" she gave a watery heave of breath and the tears ran down her delicate cheeks.
Harry felt a lump develop in his throat. He had no idea how or why the conversation had turned in this direction. Cho was crying now, and many pairs of eyes turned toward them. Roger's girlfriend released his lips and raised an eyebrow at Harry. He blinked at her, trying to convey with his eyes that it wasn't his fault Cho was crying and she should go back to snogging her boyfriend and mind her own business.
"Cho…I'm sorry," he whispered, now taking her hand across the table. She sniffed and looked down at his thumb as it rested on hers.
"Harry?"
"Yeah?"
She looked into his eyes. "Did…did Cedric…m-mention me at all before he…?"
The lump in Harry's throat doubled in size. She was staring at him beseechingly, her hand shaking slightly under his. Harry really wanted to be anywhere else but here right now, talking about anything else. He remembered painfully how Snape pulled that memory out of his mind during their first Occlumency lesson. Cedric's hollow, dark eyes…staring at him…always staring at him…only not seeing. Harry swallowed the lump with difficulty and shook his head.
"There really wasn't time for that," he muttered. "Everything happened so fast and he was gone before I could-" She whimpered, choking back a sob. "Cho, listen-can't we just talk about something else?" he hated the desperate undertone in his voice.
"Why? Why can't we talk about Cedric? I-I need to, Harry! With you! Don't you need to?"
"I have. I've talked about it enough, with my friends. With Angelina-"
"Why can you talk about it with her, and not me? She's not the one who lost him!" She shouted this last, and now everyone had stopped what they were doing to peer over at them. That stupid blonde girl was looking at Harry as if he where the world's worst boyfriend. Except Cho was not his girlfriend and now he thanked Merlin he hadn't gotten together with her because if all she wanted to do was talk about Cedric when they were just hanging out, he could only imagine what being in a relationship with her would be like.
"Cho," Harry said firmly. "I don't want to talk about Cedric, okay? Can we go down to meet Hermione and Angelina now?"
"I'm not coming! You go ahead and talk to your girlfriend and that know-it-all Hermione Granger all you want!"
Cho threw some money on the table and stood up huffily, her lip quivering and her eyes still wet with tears. Harry watched her weave quickly through the tables. With a soft chiming sound from the bells hanging over the entrance, she had gone out into the rain, leaving him sitting there like an idiot.
Growling in frustration, he got up and likewise put money on the table. Swatting irritably at the Cherub who attempted to chuck another handful of confetti in his face, Harry tripped across the room through the tiny spaces between the tables full of staring people.
"Cho!" he shouted, rushing out into the cascade. He spotted her running down the street and sprinted after her, his feet splashing against the pavement as his clothes became drenched from collar to socks. He caught up with her and tugged her shoulder to get her to turn around and face him. "Hey, wait a second! What happened in there?"
"Just go away, Harry!" Cho sobbed. Her face was all shiny, with rain or tears he couldn't tell, and she was hugging herself. "Leave me alone! You're awful!"
He felt his sympathy and patience slip away and his temper flared up. "Have you ever seen a dead body?" he shouted, his voice rising above the pounding rain and claps of thunder. Her mouth dropped open and she made to shake her head, but he continued. "No? I thought not—and pray you never have to-to watch someone die. Pray you never have to see it, because it is not something you can just sit around and chat about!"
"Harry, p-please stop yelling at me…" she melted into tears again but Harry was far beyond caring.
"I had only just been talking to him! He was standing right there, right next to me! They killed him right in front of me!" He was breathing so hard. His chest felt as if a cinder block was perched on it. His could hardly see, for the rain drove his hair into his eyes and his glasses were slick with the stuff.
"Oh no!" Cho wailed, actually covering her ears and stepping away from him. There were very few people out in the street, but those who were fleeing the weather for shelter slowed their steps, squinting over at them curiously.
"So you tell your friend Marietta that she should just get over whatever it is she's confused about. I know what's coming, and if she doesn't believe me that's her problem! She's got a stupid crush on Zach Smith? Big deal!"
"Oh, Harry it's more complicated than that!" Cho sobbed absurdly. "She doesn't even like Zach anymore, she likes M-!"
She stopped talking abruptly and shook her head, her hands still over her ears. He started, taking a step toward her, but she turned and sprinted away down the street again. Harry stared after her, feeling very confused and more than a little upset. "What the fuck?" he grumbled to himself in exasperation.
The afternoon had taken a very unexpected and dramatic turn. He had no energy left to devote to the rest of the day, he didn't think, and the rain did not seem to want to let up. Kicking angrily at a puddle, Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and began walking miserably in the opposite direction, headed for the Three Broomsticks.