Once again, he had acted foolishly and allowed his own desires to overcome rational thought.
But at least this time he had gotten a kiss. Warm, warm…she was so warm—burning, even. He desperately wanted some of that warmth for himself. He thought that she might respond to him this time; urgh, how incredibly weak and stupid of him! Of course, she did not. She pushed him away, as she had done before and would probably keep doing. Take the hint boy, his father would say. His father…his father did this to him.
He heard sloshing footsteps approaching and turned his head to see Montague running back into the tunnel. He hoped the others weren't following.
He didn't see them, and silently thanked Merlin for this. "We've started without y-!" Montague stopped yelling when he saw that Draco was sitting slumped against the wall. He shook his black hair free of the heavy rainwater and knelt next to the other boy, concern etched on his normally uncaring face. "What the hell happened, Malfoy? Did that bitch use her wand on you?"
"Help me up," Draco uttered stonily, ignoring the question.
Montague rolled his eyes and sighed hard, taking Draco's outstretched hand and pulling him to his feet. "I told you to leave her."
Draco closed his eyes for the thousandth time against another spasm in his body. "Montague…" he breathed. "I don't-I don't think I can practice…today…"
"Of course not." Montague scowled. "And how're we supposed to work on strategy without our Seeker?"
Draco opened his eyes and stared at him. "Can't you remember a goddamned thing you wrote in that book?"
"Mind your mouth there, fifth year. You know what I meant." The two boys regarded each other silently for a moment, the rain pounding and the faint sounds of the other team members' yelling echoing all around them against the stone walls of the tunnel. Draco sighed and leaned on his broomstick; he was feeling very weak now, very tired. "Listen, you should go to Snape," Montague saw Draco start to protest, but cut him off before he opened his mouth, "I know your dad would probably kill you, but you can hardly stand, Draco. Look at you! People are starting to ask questions. Just go to him, get some potions, and come back next practice looking less like a bloody ghost, all right?"
Draco didn't answer. Instead he turned around and began the journey back to the changing rooms. Montague watched Draco for a while, shaking his head at this pitiful mess that was walking stubbornly away from him.
"Go to Snape, Draco!" he shouted, his voice echoing.
No answer. His team was waiting. He turned his back on Draco and jogged back out onto the pitch, mounting his broom seconds after he touched grass and zooming away.
"Ron, wait!" Angelina struggled to catch up with him as he trudged up the soggy path leading to the castle. He kept going, his head down; the vibrant copper-red of his hair now muted as it hung limply in his face. She felt a lock of her own hair slap wetly into her mouth as she called out to him again, jogging forward until she was in step with him. "Hey—wait a minute."
He sighed and stopped walking, turning to her. His face was almost as white as Draco's. "What?"
"How…" she hesitated, her heart pounding, and pulled the lock of soaked hair out of her mouth. "H-How much did you see?"
"Enough." He looked very angry, and Angelina never thought she would actually feel ashamed to look into Ron Weasley's eyes. "It looked like—Angelina, it looked like was kissing you."
"You saw that?"
"Not the whole thing, but I'm not stupid." His gaze was resentful. The rain beat down on them. Angelina shivered. "So you're gonna tell me he put a body bind on you or something? Made you stand there and take it?"
"Wha-? No, Ron, you don't understand-!"
"Or did you just see me coming and decide to push him off for appearances' sake?"
Before Angelina could stop herself she had slapped him. His eyes widened with surprise and he stepped back from her, reaching up to rub his jaw. She instantly regretted it, and she could see as he narrowed his eyes at her that it only made things worse. "I-I'm sorry…" Ron said nothing, but simply turned and walked away. "Hey! Come back here!"
She caught up with him and forced him to stop again, jerking him back by the shoulder. "Piss off!" he snarled. "This whole time you've been telling us Malfoy tried to force you—stringing my best mate along like a chump, and you've really been double-crossing him with that slimy git!"
"That is not true! Think about what you're saying to me! I would never do something like that!" Angelina felt hot tears mingling with the cold rain on her skin. "You don't know me at all, Ron!"
"Yeah, well maybe I don't wanna know you!"
"Oh stop being such a grumpy arsehole! Just because you're afraid to get closer to Hermione, that doesn't mean you have to go off accusing-!"
"Watch your mouth about me and Hermione, Angelina!" Ron stepped towards her threateningly, but she knew he wouldn't hurt her. They glared at each other for a beat. He took a breath and said very calmly, "I'm going to tell Harry."
"No!"
"No? Watch me." He turned and began stomping away again. She dodged in front of him, blocking his path. "Get outta my way, Angelina, or I'll-!"
"You're not telling Harry anything, I am!" Angelina shuddered, staring at him imploringly through the rain. "I'm going to tell him the truth—and you're going to keep your mouth shut because you don't know what you're talking about."
"Then what was that in the tunnel?" he bellowed, gesturing wildly back down to the pitch; water flying from his fingertips. "What the hell were you two doing?"
"H-He did kiss me—hey, listen!—but I didn't want it, I didn't ask for it, and I sure as hell didn't enjoy it!" She had her hands pressed against his heaving chest now; he'd tried to stomp past her again when she admitted that Malfoy had kissed her. "He is not right in the head, Ron, there's something terribly wrong with him…"
"What else is new?" Ron spat, angrily.
"Well, you saw him! His father's been doing Merlin-knows-what to him and-and…"
"I don't feel the slightest bit of sympathy for that fucking creep," Ron told her through clenched teeth. "Why should you?"
"I don't either. Listen to me, will you? I-I'm going to turn him in. Maybe someone can help him—he's obviously mixed up."
"Help him?" Ron gaped at her. She drew in her fingers on his chest as he tried again to side-step her. "I don't want to help him; I want to see his knees broken! Who in their bloody right minds would want to help him after the shite he's pulled?"
"He'll be expelled. He'll be sent away. I love Harry, but Ron, do you really want to see him gone just for sinking to Malfoy's level?"
She was shaking slightly from the chill that her soaked clothing and hair brought upon her. Ron groaned and rolled his eyes, reaching up to brush her hands away. "Well, who will you go to then? Not sodding Umbridge?"
"No…n-not Umbridge."
"Who, then? McGonagall? She's on probation-"
"D-Dumbledore."
Ron blinked. "Who?" She didn't need to repeat herself. He stared at her for a long time. Then, his expression softening finally, he muttered, "You're shaking…"
"It's getting c-cold out here."
"When will you tell Harry?"
"I…I-I don't want to—it's Valentine's Day, and he probably-"
"All right, all right—but you are going to tell him?" he squinted at her. She nodded. "And…and when will you turn Malfoy in?"
"As soon as Dumbledore gets back from wherever he's gone to." Dumbledore had been gone since the morning they got the news about the Azkaban escape, no doubt to visit the Minister, or the prison itself. Ron looked wary of the idea of waiting, but she spoke before he got a chance to. "Please, understand Ron. Harry did what he had to do before and it was a miracle he didn't get caught and chucked out. Now I'm going to do this my way, all right? Malfoy will be gone soon enough."
Sighing heavily, Ron put an arm around her and began to guide her forward, back up the path. They jogged all the way down to the gate at the end of the carriageway, where Filch was standing with an umbrella floating above his head, holding the list of names ready. "What have ya got to do in the village with this weather on?" he grumbled testily as he checked their names off. "Go on, off with ya, yer little twits…"
As they jogged away from him, Ron's arm still draped around her shoulders, they caught sight of Cho Chang walking slowly towards them, hugging herself, her red skirt limply clinging to her legs. Angelina stopped and squinted through her wet eyelashes as the girl approached, and when she was closest to them she could hear crying.
"Cho? Hey, Cho, what's wrong?"
Cho stopped in front of them and looked from Ron's face to Angelina's before her lip quivered and she shook her head. "Oh, h-hi Angelina. Hi, Ron…" she tried a watery smile, but it failed.
"Why are you crying?" Ron asked, shaking some of his hair out of his face.
"Um…I-I'd just better get back up to the castle. I'm r-really cold." Cho gave Angelina a side-long look as she scurried past them, still hugging herself, and jogged back up the gravel path to the gate, where Filch was tapping his foot impatiently.
They walked quickly in silence down the High Street, headed for the Three Broomsticks, which was at the end. Before they went in, though, Ron turned to her. "Listen. I'm not going to say anything to Harry today, but if you don't tell'im-"
"I will. Ron, trust me, all right?" Angelina paused. "How do you know Draco's father put him under the Unforgivable Curse?"
Ron shrugged. "It just seemed like a good guess at the time. Harry's got a theory—I think he might be right."
"I think you're right, too…" Angelina muttered, her eyes narrowing in though. "He curled up on the floor like that when I pushed him. He's very weak, and I overheard Montague and him talking about it."
Ron considered her story before jerking his head towards the double doors of the pub. "Come on, let's go in," he sighed and shook his head. "Hermione's gonna be so disappointed in me…"
The atmosphere was a welcome change from the cold wetness they emerged from. The place was packed full of people—mostly students, but here and there a few Hogsmeaders could be seen eyeing everyone wearily. They caught their breath, and Ron tried to warm her by rubbing her arms rapidly. She thanked him and reached into her robes for her wand. After drying her hair with it, she dried his, and the two of them slopped across the room towards the bar, where Ron ordered two butterbeers from Madam Rosemerta. Angelina noticed that he was blushing furiously when he turned around to hand hers to her, but she said nothing.
"Angelina, Ron, over here!" Angelina gulped down a swig of beer and turned, frowning, to see Hermione waving to them from across the room. They dodged tables full of laughing students and weaved around groups of people walking up to the bar to get to where Hermione was. She was sitting at a table with Harry, Luna Lovegood, and a woman that looked vaguely familiar to Angelina, though she couldn't quite remember where she'd seen her. The woman had frosty blonde hair and wore a hideous alligator skin raincoat that looked a bit on the ratty side. She had long, crimson red fingernails and a pair of winged, jeweled spectacles covering her icy blue eyes. She didn't attempt to introduce herself to Ron or Angelina, but simply stared at them peevishly as if she would rather be lying in the middle of the street in the rain than sitting here amongst them.
"Hey, guys…" Harry greeted them, his voice sounding a little funny.
"Hi…" Angelina couldn't help staring back at the woman as she slipped into the chair Ron had pulled up.
"What is she doing 'ere?" Ron groaned at Hermione, apparently already having been acquainted with the woman. The woman clicked her tongue sharply and rolled her eyes.
"I'm not here by choice, you silly boy," she snapped.
Hermione gave the woman a warning look, then turned to Ron again. "We were just finishing up."
"Finishing what?" Angelina set her beer down on the table.
"I'm giving an interview," Harry said a bit unenthusiastically. "About what happened to me last year. About Voldemort's-" The woman jumped, startling Angelina, upon the sound of Voldemort's name. Harry rolled his eyes at her and continued. "When he came back, and killed Cedric…"
"Oh." Angelina and Ron exchanged glances.
"Hi, Angelina," Luna said suddenly, as if she had just noticed Angelina sitting there. "How was practice?"
"Um, fine, thanks Luna."
There was a pause, in which the woman rested her chin on her elbow on the table and regarded them all with the impatient air of a child waiting to escape her parents' boring company so she could go play. "Can we move this along, I don't have all day."
"Oh really, and where've you got to be off to, Rita?" Hermione asked, a knowing smirk on her face.
"That is none of your concern, Miss Prissy." The Rita woman (Angelina remembered, now! She used to write for the Daily Prophet! Nasty one, she was….) gritted, sneering and looking down at her parchment, where an acid green quill was perched on its own, ready to write. "Now…" she turned her attention back to Harry. "Where were we? Ah, yes…you were just about to tell me…" the quill was scratching across the parchment jerkily, taking down everything Rita said. "…about the moment that unfortunate Cedric Diggory boy bit the dust."
"Watch what you say about Cedric," Harry warned, his eyes narrowing at her. The Rita woman attempted an apologetic smile, but it came off as a leer. She muttered 'sorry' and Harry gave Hermione a despairing look before he shifted in his seat and sighed. "Um…Wormtail killed him. Voldemort ordered him to, and then before I knew it…."
They sat through Harry's interview for another twenty minutes. Angelina listened, unable to help herself from taking hold of his hand as he struggled through the part when Voldemort touched him and then put him under the Cruciatus. She could not have imagined he'd gone through so much, and listening to him tell it made her feel so awful about complaining because her stupid playbook had been stolen—all the things she found herself upset about seemed to pale in comparison to what Harry had been through.
The Rita woman had twice tried to question Angelina when she noticed that she and Harry had laced fingers under the table, but Hermione merely cleared her throat warningly and the woman sourly resumed taking down Harry's testimony.
After they'd finished the interview, Harry felt guilty and truthfully kind of sick. He pushed his butterbeer away and asked Hermione why he had agreed to do this.
"Because you know the truth needs to be told, Harry."
"Yeah, I know…" he was finding it a little hard to breathe. The sound of the rain outside the pub and the chattering voices of the many people around them were giving him a headache. Angelina held his hand under the table. "I-I just haven't talked about it like that since…since it happened, is all. I guess."
Hermione reached over and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. "I know. I'm sorry. But this is the only way, Harry. Umbridge is trying to shut you up, she's backing you into a corner, and we just can't let her!"
He allowed Hermione to reassure him that it was the best defense they had against the Ministry's unrelenting efforts to keep him quiet about Voldemort. He could only imagine what people might say when he showed up on the cover of the Quibbler, an odd magazine that ran articles about things like Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and fugitive convicts really being retired singers in disguise. Hermione reminded him, however, that people all over were dissatisfied with the information (or lack there of) that they'd received from the Daily Prophet about the Death Eater escape and would be looking to other sources for a better explanation.
"Kids here at Hogwarts have been talking about it-you heard, Harry. They want more information, and they'll look for it. Even in slightly…out of the ordinary…magazines like Luna's Dad's." Hermione said politely, smiling at Luna. Luna sipped her gillywater and hummed 'Weasley is Our King' to herself quietly, not appearing to have heard Hermione at all.
When they had done talking about the Quibbler interview, Harry broached the subject of Cho. "I ran into her while I was waiting to meet you," he informed Angelina, observing that Ron was sitting slightly apart from Hermione with his chin in his hand. "We were just hanging out at first…then she started acting all weird…"
"We saw her," Angelina said sympathetically. "Ron and me, on our way here. She was crying."
"Yeah," Harry shook his head, adopting a guilty expression. "I-I kind of yelled at her."
"Harry that wasn't very nice. Why would you yell at her?" Hermione frowned at him sternly. "She seems like such a sweet girl."
"Sure she is, when she isn't getting mad at me for not wanting to talk about Cedric and throwing crying fits. I mean, she just brought it up out of nowhere. We were talking about that Marietta girl."
"Ugh, what's she gone and said about you now?" Ron groaned. "I say we take a vote. All those in favor of kicking Marietta Edgecombe out of the D.A.?" He stuck his arm straight up in the air. Hermione reached up and brought it back down to the table, patting his hand patiently.
"That's the thing, I would love to toss her out, but-" Hermione huffed disapprovingly and Harry lifted his hands in exasperation. "-well, come on Hermione, she's a pain! She manages to complain about every single thing I do, every meeting, and I dunno how much more I can tolerate."
"She's worse than that Zacharius Smith," Angelina agreed. "Even he's come around; last week he was the first to volunteer when Harry needed someone to be the target for our Stinging Hexes, remember?"
"Yes, yes, I suppose you're right." Hermione shook her head as if it were a shame. "Maybe we should take a vote on it at the next meeting, then." Ron smiled, obviously pleased that they were going to go with his idea.
Harry sighed. "I feel funny about that."
"Why? You just said-" Ron lost his smile.
"I know, I know, but Cho said something that makes me think maybe we shouldn't kick Marietta out. Her mum works at the Ministry, and Cho says she's been acting like this because she's confused about who to believe or whatever…"
"When the Quibbler comes out, she'll know you're telling the truth Harry." Luna joined the conversation for the first time, drawing somewhat surprised glances from them all. She swallowed the last of her gillywater and smiled airily. "Why don't you hold off voting until then? See if she comes around or not?"
Harry lifted his eyebrows thoughtfully. "That's not a bad idea, Luna."
"Mind you, Daddy's paper is very highly regarded for its attention to detail when it comes to research. He would never print a story that he weren't absolutely sure was authentic."
Harry nodded slowly, thinking that he doubted the authenticity of the existence of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks very highly.
"You shouldn't be so hard on Cho," Angelina said thoughtfully as they were getting ready to leave the Three Broomsticks. "She might've really loved Cedric. And you're the last person who saw him alive. She probably feels the two of you are connected because of that."
Harry closed his eyes briefly, muttering honestly, "That's really creepy and depressing…"
Angelina shrugged sympathetically and kissed him on the cheek. "I know. But maybe if you just talked to her? I mean, now that you've given the interview, do you think it would be easier for you to speak to Cho about it?"
Harry shook his head. "I doubt she'll even speak to me at all again, after the way I yelled at her. And when she sees I gave the interview today, she'll probably hate me for sharing it with Rita Skeeter when I wouldn't talk about it with her."
He asked, while they were waiting for Luna, who had gone to the loo, how Quidditch practice went. For some reason Angelina hesitated and her eyes drifted to Ron; who was still not standing very close to Hermione and who seemed lost in his own thoughts, though Harry got the strange feeling he was listening to Angelina as she spoke; before answering him. "Um…it was okay right up until all this started," she gestured to the pouring rain through the foggy windows and sighed. "We needed more time. But Slytherin-" Angelina stopped talking abruptly.
"What?" Harry frowned at her. "But Slytherin what?"
"They went out in it like it was nothing," Ron spoke up, looking very serious. "All except Malfoy. He's in a right foul state, he is."
"Oh yeah?" Harry smirked, bitterly satisfied with this news.
"Too sick to practice, or just too lazy to get wet?" Hermione asked.
"No, he's done for. I think you were right about his Dad training him up to be a Death Eater, Harry. I think…" he leaned in and so did Harry and Hermione. "I think he's been getting put under the Cruciatus."
Harry opened his mouth to ask what made Ron so sure, but just then Luna came back. The rain had slowed to a faint sprinkle when they stepped out of the pub, and Harry curled an arm around Angelina's waist, pulling her close to him as they walked. Ron and Hermione were walking ahead of them. Ron had his head down, as usual.
"Was practice that bad?" Harry whispered, leaning in to Angelina while he eyed Ron. "He looks upset."
Angelina watched Ron, too. After a long pause, she shook her head. "It was just Malfoy," she offered quietly. "We saw him on our way out."
The foursome parted ways with Luna once inside the castle. When they reached the common room they found it nearly empty, except for Ginny and Dean, who were snogging on the hearthrug. Ron made a pained noise and covered his eyes as they pulled themselves apart from each other, both grinning apologetically. "Thomas, I'm gonna kill you!" Ron griped, still blinded by his own hand.
"Right, sorry. We'll just…go…" Dean did not look that sorry and neither did Ginny. Harry watched, somewhat bemused and a little impressed, as Ginny stood up, rolling her eyes at her brother, and took Dean's hand to pull him up with her.
"Come on, Dean. We can find an empty study room or something." She flashed Ron, who had opened his eyes to glare at Dean, a defiant look as he groaned and covered his ears.
"You wait till I tell Mum," Ron called after her as she led Dean through the portrait hole. "Ech! My little sister, it just isn't right."
"Oh grow up, Ron." Ginny called back.
Hermione watched them leave and then sat down on the couch, smiling serenely. "They're sweet," she observed as Ron lowered his hands from his ears and bounced down next to her. "You should be happy for Ginny, Ron."
"I'll be happy when she stops flaunting her boyfriends around me." Harry exchanged looks with Angelina and the two of them made their way around the couch towards the stairs to the boys' dorms. Ron saw them moving and his eyes went wide, a funny expression developing on his freckled face. "Hey, where are you two going?"
"Upstairs…" Harry said matter-of-factly.
"But, er…" Oddly enough Ron looked rather apprehensive. "Um, I thought we were gonna talk about…you know Malfoy and stuff?"
Hermione frowned at him, a knowing look narrowing her eyes. "Ron, we can talk about that later. I haven't seen you all day…"
"I know." He didn't look at her, merely continued staring at Harry and Angelina as if, amazingly enough to Harry, pleading with them using his eyes to stay in the common room. "But this is kind of important, innit? Malfoy being a Death Eater. Right, Angelina?"
Harry turned to Angelina, who looked somewhat stunned like a dear caught in headlights for a split second. She turned her eyes from Ron to Harry and then back to Ron. Harry opened his mouth, really confused by this series of gestures from both his best friend and his girlfriend, but then Angelina spoke clearly, "Hermione's right, Ron. We can talk about that later." Then she smiled, her eyes flashing at the ginger-haired boy. "It's Valentine's Day, mate. Common room is only empty for so long…spend some time alone with your girlfriend."
"Or am I not capable of holding your interest by myself, Ronald?" Hermione's voice sounded dangerously offended, and she crossed her arms. Ron finally turned to look at her, and Harry took this as his cue to pull Angelina away slowly. They tiptoed backwards, both knowing full well what was about to happen, and when they reached the first step they turned and sprinted upward, away from the scene. As expected, Hermione's stern voice was rising steadily as she berated Ron, and he could be heard yelling back.
Last thing Harry heard was Ron's somewhat heated: "I am not afraid to be alone with you!"
They stifled their snickering with their hands until they had reached Harry's dorm. Neville was pulling on his cloak when they came in, and he turned to peer curiously over at them as they burst into full-fledged laughter once the door was shut. Harry spotted Neville as he was wiping a tear from his eye. "Oh, hey Neville. What're you up to?"
"Oh, well I thought I'd just…pop by the Room of Requirement by meself and practice some dueling stuff," he answered guilelessly as he reached down to retrieve his wand from his nightstand. At Harry's impressed look he blushed and adverted his eyes. "Um I-I still haven't quite gotten the hang of my magical center? T-thought I'd try some more of that meditation you taught us."
"Brilliant." Harry offered simply. He watched as Neville crossed the room, inclining his head at Angelina in passing, and opened the door. "Just be careful—Ron and Hermione are down there and I don't think she's pleased with him."
"Or they could've gotten into some heavy-duty snogging in the heat of their argument," Angelina added.
Neville blushed even deeper and muttered 'cheers' before leaving them alone. As soon as the door closed, Harry locked it and stepped closer to Angelina—like magnets their lips were pressed together in a soft, lengthy kiss. Their clothes were still damp. Angelina reached up and took hold of Harry's collar, pulling the wet black shirt down his shoulders and arms until it fell to the floor. "I'm sorry…" Harry muttered, unable to help himself as he pulled away from the kiss and looked at her face. She was unbuttoning his jeans now. He kicked off his trainers.
"Why?"
Harry felt tingly all over as she let the jeans drop to his feet. He stepped out of them. "I didn't get you anything. I spent the whole day with Cho. I'm sorry."
"If anyone should be sorry," Angelina tugged her Quidditch shirt over her head, dropping it to the floor. "It's me. Quidditch practice was a waste of time with all this rain." As if on cue, the rain picked up again and began drumming loudly against the windows. Angelina pulled down her pants and sat on the edge of Harry's bed. He stared at her, admiring her lean, curvy figure before kneeling and unlacing her boots for her.
"You can't predict the weather," Harry sat the boots next to his trunk, pulled her pants off all the way, and began hanging their wet clothes over the furnace rungs. Angelina stood up and hugged him from behind, her slightly moist skin sticking to his. She rested her chin over the crook of his neck.
"Harry," she whispered. "I don't care about the rain, or Cho, or you not getting me anything. I'm just glad we're together…"
Harry closed his eyes as she began to run her teeth over the sensitive skin on his neck. He exhaled slowly, feeling familiar, tingly warmth in certain places. Her hair brushed lightly against his arm and chest.
He was kind of anxious. It wasn't as if he feared they'd be interrupted again; it was still afternoon and despite the rain, he knew people would be taking advantage of their time in Hogsmeade to the fullest—even if that meant sloshing around down the streets getting soaked. It wasn't, either, that he feared letting go of the possibility that he was still a virgin, because in his opinion they hadn't really even gotten started last time. Harry was nervous because…well, this was real wasn't it? He had spent his day feeling all kinds of ways about his life—fear from the Azkaban breakout, resentfulness from Cho's demand for him to share his memories of Cedric, guilt from refusing her and then sharing them with Rita, and disappointment that the day hadn't gone as he'd planned—yet now all of that disappeared. He hadn't actually realized what they were doing as they undressed each other until this very moment, and now that this realization had hit home, he felt the weight of it falling down on him like the rain outside his window.
The only thing he wanted, the only thing he cared for in this moment was to be with Angelina. Be with her, close to her, inside her…
Harry turned around and looked into her eyes again. Angelina's expression mirrored his feelings. Though there was desire for him clearly shining in her soft brown eyes, he noticed that she was shaking slightly. This time was completely opposite from their last encounter; there was a need to come together pushing at them hungrily in the dark of the common room then, but now…now Harry's curiosity, his apprehensiveness, and his desire for closeness and the comfort of her affection for him were all rolled into one and they thundered inside him quietly. He could see that Angelina was experiencing the same quiet storm. The rain hit the windows, tap tap tap...
Not taking her eyes from his, she slowly, agonizingly reached up and touched her bra straps. Giving a small, shuddering breath, her gaze so uncharacteristically bashful, Angelina slipped the straps off her shoulders: one, then the other. She reached behind herself and unclasped the garment, letting it fall to the floor. Harry's own breath caught and he held it, the heat in those familiar places pulsing, pounding just like the rain. The afternoon light fell on her round, soft breasts when she revealed them to him exquisitely. Harry's gaze dropped down to them and his eyelashes fluttered as he took in the small, dark areoles around her nipples.
Swallowing, Harry tore his eyes from her breasts as his mind flashed neon like the twins' fireworks: "you've just seen naked breasts, you've just seen naked breasts, this is it, this is happening!" He finally let out the breath he'd been holding as he whispered, "Angelina, you're so beautiful…"
Angelina smiled slowly, the nervous expression still firm on her beautiful face, as she reached down and took off her underwear for him. She was completely naked now. As Harry took all of her in, he felt an erection slowly forming beneath his boxers, and his mind attempted to guide him: Okay, he thought as his eyes roamed over her lithe body, stay calm. Just…this is no scarier than anything else you've done. You've beaten a bloody dragon before. You can do this.
She was looking at him apprehensively, now, and he could see a little area in her chest flittering madly—her heartbeat. He felt his own drumming pulse drowning out his thoughts. Gathering himself, Harry slowly pulled down his boxer shorts and stepped out of them. He understood exactly what she must've been feeling. He was now completely naked as well, very exposed, and his whole body felt on fire just from her delicate, wide-eyed gaze. He saw her eyes travel the length of his body and then back up again where they rested on his erect member.
"Oh, Harry…" she breathed. He hoped that this 'oh Harry' meant that she was pleased with what she was saw there; though he could see it in her eyes and it made him burn with an odd feeling-possibly pride.
Harry swallowed again, his temples and cheeks very hot. Angelina's hand came up, and he watched her step closer to him. He closed his eyes and seconds later he could feel her cool fingers on him, tracing down the length of his ebony happy trail until they reached the hard on that was growing more and more pronounced (and painful) with each second. Her fingertips very lightly brushed his sensitive flesh, and it sent a powerful wave of feeling through him like a chill, only much better. He folded his lips and muttered, "Hm…" quietly before leaning forward again and kissing her.
Their skin touched in tiny places; a point on their thighs, his happy trail brushed against her hip, their toes met, and then the tip of Harry's throbbing cock sank into Angelina's v-shaped, downy muff for just a second. She moaned quietly and pulled him by the hips towards his bed. Harry barely had time to process this—she touched him, they kissed, now they were moving to his bed and the recognition of these actions were all wrapped up in a raging ball of yearning.
They slipped under the covers awkwardly, their young bodies eager to come together again. He was naked and she was naked and he wanted to laugh but that did not seem very appropriate. Harry was vaguely aware of the afternoon sky, still grayish but bright enough to cast shadows down into his sheets that caught certain curves on Angelina's body beautifully. He breathed in deeply, so anxious but hesitant for some reason. He wanted to get it right this time…weeks and weeks of longing to be inside her was finally culminating here on a rainy Valentine's Day afternoon. He almost didn't want to let it go, but he could feel her soft nipples rubbing against his skin; feel their breath mingling; feel the soft tickle of her brush against his as he hovered over her; the ideas he had for what he would do when this moment arrived vanished from is mind and all he had left was the desire.
Angelina smiled seductively. "Are you ready?" He had positioned himself on top of her. He nodded slowly, nestling between her legs, his forearms supporting his upper body on either side of her. She stroked his back soothingly, her fingers tracing the jagged scar that sloped along his shoulder blade. Harry closed his eyes, then pushed himself gently inside and felt the damp, hot, silken flesh slide inch by agonizingly pleasurable inch up his shaft as it sank into her. Harry let out a noise similar to the one he'd voiced his first time experiencing this wonderful sensation, gripping the mattress. Angelina was breathing softly, her nipples pressing against him and then falling away. "Kiss me, Harry…"
Hazily, his eyes still closed, he obeyed. They kissed several times and then Harry felt a little stuck for what to do next. After a slight pause, Angelina opened her legs wider and he sank down further inside her, almost swooning from the pleasure. Instinctively, finally, he began to move. This was a good idea. Angelina took hold of his bottom, squeezing it firmly, causing him to groan and bury his face in her neck as she helped him pick up his pace. After several deep, slow thrusts he opened his eyes to look at her face. She was biting her bottom lip, wincing a bit, and despite the overwhelming need to sink ever deeper inside her Harry paused. "Am I hurting you?" he whispered, furrowing his brow with concern.
She shook her head. "No..." He pushed further and she moaned.
"Are you sure?" he breathed, slightly alarmed at the look on her face. She looked as if she wanted to cry. "Angelina…what's wrong?"
"Nothing…mmm…keep going." Angelina leaned up and kissed him intensely several times before pulling him fully on top of her. He felt her hands on his bum again and seconds later they were moving together, each flux sending eddies of pleasure rippling through him from the tip of the head inside her to the back of his pelvis. He slipped one hand down to grasp her thigh, only to bring her even closer to him if possible. He lost all capacity for thought, forgot his nerves and fear; he forgot about Umbridge, Voldemort, Ron, Quidditch, Occlumency, and that bloody corridor in the Department of Mysteries. He forgot about Malfoy. He concentrated on what he was feeling…
Angelina moaned and kissed him, bit his neck gently, ran her hands through his hair. Harry grunted and moved faster, deeper, intense heat pulling him and a tingly numbness beginning to develop in the small of his back. He didn't think about what was happening; it felt so good and it was growing more powerful with each thrust. He heard her steady "oh…hmmm…" in his ear, heard the raindrops hitting the glass, felt the tingling become more intense as he stroked over and over again—the topmost ridge of his cock rubbing hot against her swollen clit every single time. The tingle spread upward and downward, so warm. Crept up his spine and down into his thighs. After a moment he could no longer feel his hips. Harry was beginning to panic, but he was unable to stop—for his mind was growing numb like his hips.
They were breathing and sweating and their skin stuck together before being peeled apart again as Harry moved faster; needing desperately to keep going—it was so close! He groaned salaciously with the effort while relishing the feel of Angelina's delicate hands clinging to him—her fingers digging into the meat of his hips and back drove this need forward fiercely. She was growing wetter and wetter, her thighs quivering, her breathing becoming erratic. Harry was almost there…all thought lost to him…nothing apparent but the agonizing threshold of pleasure…and then almost painfully a blinding crescendo of ecstasy hit him all over. "Urghmmmm…" he grunted, sucking in his breath as all of the muscles in his back, thighs, and even his toes contracted at once. He tried to keep moving, wave after wave of it crashing into his senses. And he felt her clawing at him too, her own climax shuddering through her violently, which in turn pushed him past the point of tolerable pleasure. He simply let it wash over him, losing himself inside her until everything came to a breathless halt.
When he came to, he was sweating and trembling slightly. Angelina was cradling him to her chest, her breasts rising and falling deeply as he lay there limply on top of her. Harry knew for certain now that he was no longer a virgin. Tiredly, he lifted his head and looked at her. "Are you okay?" he breathed.
"Oh yes. Are you?"
"Yeah. I feel pretty damned good…" he grinned lazily, now becoming aware that there was something very slimy on his skin down there. "I think you made me…" he lifted himself up slightly, looking down but not being able to see under the covers. He gently pulled himself out and away, and the stuff oozed out everywhere. He made a face. "Gross."
Angelina burst into a fit of laughter. Harry looked up at her, feeling slightly embarrassed.
"I didn't know it would be…this…messy." He was attempting to slide to the edge of the bed without touching his skin to the sheets, but it wasn't working very well. Angelina stopped her giggling and helped him by holding the covers up so he could ease out of them. Harry tiptoed, his back hunched and his legs spread slightly, knees bent, over to the furnace. He poked through his jeans pockets and found his wand. Making another face, Harry Scourgified the mess from himself and then handed his wand to Angelina.
When they were cleaned up, they sat on the edge of the bed, side by side, naked as newborns.
"Well…" Angelina said after a beat. She leaned closer to him and kissed him tenderly on the lips. "We're no longer virgins."
Harry frowned. "You were…?"
She made a face at him and nodded. "Well, yeah silly."
"Oh."
"You thought I had sex before?" Harry couldn't help offering her a wry smile as he gestured yes. "Harry! Why'd you think that?"
"Um, well you're just so…I dunno you just always seem so cool about everything. There were a few times there that I got the feeling you knew exactly what you were doing—which is more than I can say for myself."
"Well, that doesn't mean I've had sex before."
"So what you're saying, then," his smile turned playfully haughty and he lifted an eyebrow at her, "is that I brought out your trashy side, because I'm so irresistible, right?" She pushed him backward on the bed and straddled him, reaching her slender fingers into the ticklish spots under his armpits and just under his navel. He twisted and writhed around as she tickled him. He was trying in vain to pull her roaming hands away when she suddenly stopped her tickling and gasped, a delighted expression on her face. "What?" he sat up on his elbows.
"I've just had a really great idea!" Angelina looked down at him, her eyes shining. "Let's take a shower together!"
Harry's mouth dropped open. "What?" Before he could protest any further she had jumped off of him and pulled him up from the bed. "Angelina…" he groaned as she threw his towel at him and fished through his trunk for a spare. "I dunno about this…"
"I'm dirty, you're dirty, and we're together at the moment so why not kill two birds with one stone?"
Harry felt a little overwhelmed. For goodness sake he had only just pulled off having real sex for the first time, now she wanted him to bathe with her? Nonetheless he allowed her to lead him by the hand towards the door, where she unlocked it and opened it a sliver, peering through to see if anyone was in the hall.
"Which way is the boys' showers?" she whispered, turning back to him with her hair half-covering her right eye. He took in a breath, realizing he would follow her wherever she wanted to go, and muttered "…to the left," hoarsely. Angelina wrapped herself in his towel and motioned that he do the same. He held up a finger, turned and fished his Invisibility Cloak out from under his mattress, and draped it over both of them. Together they snuck out of the dorm and hurried down the corridor, past several other dorms towards the boys' showers at the far end. Harry was petrified that someone would come walking down the hall and bump into them but there was no one there. They passed Lee, Fred, and George's room, where he could faintly hear excited, loud talking and strange noises.
I'd never hear the end of it if one of those two knobs saw us out here in nothing but towels, he thought to himself as they hurried around the corner and slipped in through the door to the showers.
They could hear water running, and Harry counted at least two occupied stalls. He licked his lips nervously as he followed Angelina's tip-toe pattern quickly down to the far end of the room, where they slipped into a stall near the windows. He hung his cloak on a hook by the stall and Angelina beamed at him as they drew the shower curtain closed and stood there with each other, face to face.
He was rather nervous. He really did not fancy the idea of anyone catching them in there together.
"Take this off…" she whispered, reaching for his towel. Harry allowed her to remove it. She took off her own towel. Once again he was confronted with her naked body, standing so close to his, in the tiny space of the shower stall. To keep himself from staring at her, he reached over and turned on the water. The gentle, hot spray came down on them, driving their hair into their eyes and running slippery paths over their bodies. The little space steamed up and so did the lenses on Harry's glasses. Angelina took them off of him and put them on herself. He inched a little closer to her so that he could see her face better. She looked really silly in his spectacles. He whispered this aloud. "You look really silly in those."
"Thanks," she whispered back. Angelina pushed them down to the brim of her nose and peered at him over the tops of the wire frames. "This is fun," she said simply.
They worked in silence, both taking turns lathering the sponge and washing each other down. Harry closed his eyes and allowed Angelina to glide the sponge along his back and legs in slow, soapy circles. It soothed and relaxed him. She washed his chest, thighs, and bum off all with the slightly exploratory air of the youngsters they both were. Harry could not help himself from watching her kneel before him—it was a rather attractive sight. He took his turn too, having to gather some nerve before attempting to do the same to her. As he washed, he took in everything he saw—made note of every detail of her body. Strong, yet delicate shoulders that curved gracefully, long lean legs, and a beautiful arch in her collar bone. Her breasts had little tiny goosebumpes on them around the nipples that seemed to grow in definition when his hand or face got near them.
After a while he became aware that the showers were empty but for them, and the sun was now shining through the large, amber-tinted windows. The soft, warm light drifted in and fell on the room, reflected beautifully off the steam all around them. They were now simply standing very close to each other, the water still falling warmly on them. Harry just watched her watching him, feeling so good about himself.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked very softly. He watched her lips move.
"You…" he answered truthfully. Her slender fingers played with his happy trail. Harry blinked sleepily. "Thinking about that first time you kissed me. In the Room of Requirement, 'member?"
"Uh huh…" her eyes shone in the golden light. The rain stopped tapping the windows completely and the sun grew brighter as the clouds parted. "You were so young…"
"It was only last year," he said as though he were offended.
"Yeah but you've changed so much since then. And you've been through…a great deal more haven't you?"
Harry held her in a loose embrace, the steamy water curling down his spine, lulling him so he almost swayed on his feet. The tips of his hair touched his eyelashes. "I suppose so. But…if I've changed at all I think it's mostly because of you."
"Why? What have I done? Besides give you a headache…"
"Angelina…"
"No, no…Harry…" and she took a deep breath, letting it out in a small stream. "I've been acting really stupid, especially about this whole Malfoy thing." Harry felt a little resistant to the idea of bringing up Malfoy, but he said nothing, watching her as she spoke to him. "I did all the wrong things. I let it get out of hand, instead of doing the sensible thing in the first place."
"What's the sensible thing?' he asked quietly, carefully.
"I'm going to go to the headmaster when he gets back." Angelina answered gravely, after a pause. The sunlight illuminated her now serious face almost ethereally. "I want to handle it quietly, but I know I can trust Dumbledore, just like you all do. What do you think?"
Harry paused, considering her words to him. He did trust Dumbledore, immensely. Hermione was right, as was everyone else who told him lately: the headmaster had never led Harry astray in the past. He had always, whether blatantly or else when Harry thought he was alone, been there for the boy. With the possible exception of Professor McGonagall, who would more than likely be involved in some form or fashion, he could not think of a single other person that he would want Angelina to confide in. This year's somewhat confusing distance and vagueness from the headmaster aside, Harry was confident with Angelina's choice.
"I think if it's what you want, then Dumbledore is the person to tell."
"Really?"
"Yeah…only…" Harry frowned, trying to figure how to phrase his next question. "Why've you decided now, after all this time?"
Angelina hesitated before answering him, during which there was only the sound of the running water and the birds chirping outside the windows. "I just think…I think that kid needs help." Harry made to roll his eyes at her, but she stayed him, saying before he could groan with annoyance: "Harry, I don't like him any more than you do. But have you seen him lately? I mean really looked at him?"
"Angelina—I've been put under the Cruciatus, too. It hurts." Harry said flatly, with a hint of annoyance.
Angelina sighed, some water running over her top lip and into her mouth. She blinked under the torrent and her eyes flickered at him patiently. "I-I know. I didn't mean to dismiss what you've been through, or even that you should feel sorry for him."
"Then what do you plan to do?"
"I just want him to be held responsible for what he did. And maybe if I draw a little attention to him, you know, maybe they'll see something's really wrong, and they can help him?"
Harry was beginning to feel as if this so-called 'payback' was really just a pity party in disguise. He opened his mouth to respond to her, but just then felt the desire to discuss this any further leave him. He didn't want to talk about Draco Malfoy's weird crush on his girlfriend while they were taking a shower together. He had had enough of that stupid boy for the time being, thank you. All the stuff about becoming a Death Eater and being tortured by his father—it was all kind of angering and Harry fancied he would deal with it when he wasn't naked and wet. He only sighed and kissed her. "Do you want me to come with you? To Dumbledore?"
Angelina considered briefly, then shook her head. "No. I think I'd better go on my own."
"Okay…" That settled, Harry put Malfoy to the back of his mind. Something occurred to him and he grinned. "You know, he saw those little love-bites you gave me…"
Angelina made a face. "Really?"
"Yep. He even told Madame Pomfrey to give me a potion to get rid of them!" Harry laughed. "It was really embarrassing—Fred and George saw."
Angelina kissed him and whispered, "Well I couldn't help myself...you're irresistible." Harry grinned at her in that 'aw shucks' way. She chuckled and kissed him several times on the mouth, hugging him to her. He would always savor the sensation of their naked bodies pressed together, however briefly, under the running water. He became aroused very suddenly. Angelina laughed again. "Oh, and look who's popped up to say hello!" she crooned at his privates, causing his cheeks to turn scarlet despite his huge grin.
"Yes, he's…standing at attention, little lad." Harry played along, laughing at himself, feeling ridiculous, but loving the attention she was paying him as she ran her fingers through the curly patch of black hair lining his abdomen under this bellybutton.
"He's anything but little," Angelina said seriously and Harry felt that surge of pride attack him viciously again before he kissed her.