A/N: The end of the story is beginning to loom. You are now officially ¾ of the way done. There will be 12 chapters in total that will carry us through the end of their 6th year at Hogwarts.
Again, I appreciate all the reviews! I'm truly glad you all are enjoying the story.
As mentioned by nearly everyone who posts (and the little disclaimer at the bottom) I own none of this. And -as Romulus Lupin so aptly pointed out-if I was JK, I'd certainly be making a bit of money on these. I appreciate the (entirely too kind) comparisons to Ms. Rowling *bows* however, I assure you I am not her J
I hope this chapter does not disappoint….I must say it's one of the "trademark" chapters. On at least one other site I'm known as either the "Cliffhanger or Kleenex Queen." (For a sample of a classic VLeigh tearjerker…read my short posted here "The Next Great Adventure." For a sample of the other….read on!
Enjoy!!
Vicarious Leigh
Chapter 9 - Confessions and Catastrophes
Hermione didn't seem to look much better at breakfast the following morning. Ron remained more confused about this situation than anything else, but out of respect for their friendship, he didn't ask where the conversation had gone after his departure. The trio sat silently, eating their breakfast, searching for some impetus for a conversation.
"So, what's on the schedule today?" Ron asked, looking at both of them timidly.
"Double Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms," Hermione muttered, without looking up from her toast and jam.
"We've got Quidditch practice this afternoon as well," Harry added, trying to encourage the conversation. Being the oldest and most experienced player on the team, he had been unanimously elected captain this year.
With the exception of a period last year, Harry had been the seeker for the Gryffindor house team. Ginny, who had replaced him as seeker, made no secret that she was happy he had returned to his old position. She had taken over one of the three vacant chaser positions. Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper replaced Fred and George after their (now legendary) departure from Hogwarts, and Ron - who had replaced Oliver Wood-remained the keeper this year. A second and third year student filled the remaining two chaser positions which had been vacated by the graduation of Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet. Overall, their season had progressed well.
Gryffindor was the current Quidditch Cup champion team and Harry had fought hard to maintain that distinction during the fall term. As it stood now, they were in second place, behind Ravenclaw, but well within striking distance of claiming the title again.
Both Ron and Harry continued to muse over Quidditch through the end of breakfast. If it was possible, Harry thought Hermione became less talkative by the end of breakfast than she had been at the beginning. However, given the fact the conversation revolved entirely around the broomstick-mounted wizards' sport, neither Harry nor Ron were surprised Hermione hadn't spoken.
They sauntered into Tonks' classroom and walked toward the front. Harry followed Hermione and sat down at a table with her, while Ron managed to pull up a chair with Neville Longbottom.
It seemed obvious from the supplies set before them that the class was continuing their study of telekinesis. The same wrought iron stand sat squarely on the table with a small fluffy pillow perched atop. Harry was excited to begin. He'd actually felt he'd made some progress in this subject. He'd moved from staring blankly at the pillow to watching it flop onto the table. Others in his class had made little to no progress at all. Amazingly, of all the students in class, Neville managed to move the object first. Harry wasn't sure what shocked Neville more, the 25 points Tonks had awarded Gryffindor house when the pillow fell from the stand, or the fact members of the D.A. were asking Neville to teach them how to do it. Either way, it warmed Harry's heart. Neville had really started coming into his own this year and he was happy to see his confidence improve.
Outside the doorway, the students were startled by a crash. While most thought it was Peeves on another rampage, Harry smiled inwardly. He had the feeling class was about to start. Sure enough, the door swung open and Tonks limped into the classroom.
"Good morning class!" Tonks chirped, brushing off her cloak at the knees. She was sporting a short and spiky aquamarine hairdo and stumbled toward the front of the class. She had completely stopped apologizing for her clumsiness last November. By that point, the class had taken to laying a hand or two on whatever personal belongings were perched on their table as she instructed the class. This phenomenon was not lost on Tonks, but it didn't seem to bother her either. She began the class by teaching them a few new mind-relaxing techniques and then set them off on their telekinesis practicals.
Harry and Hermione sat, staring blankly, at the small pillow for several minutes. Truth be told, Harry wasn't concentrating at all - at least not on the pillow. Tonight was the night he was going to start Occlumency with Hermione and he wanted to test his ability in Legilimency. While she stared at the pillow, he was actually focusing all his attention on her.
He caught glimpses of her thoughts and feelings but nothing too strong or connected. He remembered the assertion that space, time, and eye contact matter in magic. He wasn't making any eye contact at all. In fact, he was trying to do this while maintaining the impression he was focused on the pillow. He broke into an uncontrollable smile as he saw a glimpse of Hermione's memory of their first kiss.
"What are you grinning at?" she snipped, glaring at him.
"Er, nothing," he said, forcing the smile off his face and refocusing his attention on the pillow.
"You're not concentrating Harry, how are we supposed to learn any of this if you won't give it its due attention? Now, you're supposed to be chucking this pillow at me and I'm supposed to be stopping it," she huffed in that familiar -you've-been-neglecting-your-homework tone of voice. Although she was entirely correct, Harry couldn't help but feel a little put off. She was chastising him because she thought he was not focusing on the lesson, when he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she wasn't any more focused than he was. Giving this thought a bit more consideration, he moved his chair to the opposite side of the table.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, looking around at some of the students who were peering in his direction.
"Eye contact," Harry said nonchalantly.
"What?" she whispered, hovering her head closer to the table.
"Eye contact, I can't look in your eyes if I'm sitting next to you," Harry said settling into his chair.
"Harry!" she whispered indignantly. "This is no time for you to be thinking about…"
"Hermione relax," he said rolling his eyes and pointing to the pillow on the stand. Hermione blushed and refocused their eyes on the task at hand. However, with Harry sitting across the table, that became increasingly more difficult. As they sat, seeming by all appearances to be simply staring at each other, they continued to sporadically break out in uncontrollable fits of giggles. It wasn't until Harry tried thinking of something a bit different that he made his greatest leap forward.
"Ah!" Hermione yelped as the pillow hit her squarely in the face.
"Wonderful!" Tonks yelled from across the classroom. "Try it again Harry!" she said rushing to the table. Harry gathered his thoughts and tried again.
Smack.
The pillow soared toward Hermione's face again. She ducked out of its way, and it followed her for a moment, before it careened past her onto the floor behind. Hermione brushed the hair out of her face and stared at Harry, half in awe of what he'd done, and half wanting to slap him for hitting her in the face with the pillow.
"Fantastic! 25 more points to Gryffindor!" Harry caught a quick smile from Neville. "Harry, can you explain to the class how you managed to swat Ms. Granger in the face?" Tonks said excitedly.
Harry did not miss the glare emanating from the other side of the table.
"I don't really know," Harry lied.
In fact, he knew exactly what he had done. He cleared his thoughts and imagined he was the pillow moving in for a kiss. He was honestly surprised it had worked but was certainly not going to share his method with the class.
***
Hermione didn't speak to Harry until dinner time that evening. By then, she had stopped being incensed over the Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson and obviously started worrying about the third "class" she would start that night,…Occlumency,… with Harry. One thing was certain; Occlumency was not a group effort. While he cherished Ron as a friend, he knew all too well from his experience with Snape that Hermione would have memories she may not want to be shared. That would be hard enough, even without an audience. It was purely protective in nature, and Harry hoped his decision wouldn't come back to haunt him in the end, but he'd made his decision. Occlumency started tonight, and he was going to have to find some way to throw Ron off the trail. Luckily, his responsibilities as Quidditch captain gave him a perfect excuse.
"Ron," Harry started, shooting a momentary glance toward Hermione. "I'm going to go down to the pitch tonight. I had an idea for a new strategy I want to work out on the board in the dressing room," he finished quickly.
"Fabulous! Do you want some help?" Ron offered. Harry was sure this would be his response and he was prepared for it, but before he got the opportunity…
"Ron! You know you haven't touched that essay for Professor McGonagall and its due in the morning! How can you think about Quidditch when you've procrastinated yourself into corner with your homework?" Hermione quipped, mirroring Harry's glance. Ron simply shifted in his seat and his shoulders slumped in a begrudging huff.
"I guess I should probably work on that tonight. You can tell me about the new strategy in the morning," Ron said dejectedly.
Harry couldn't help but smile. Hermione might have been angry with him since the morning, but she certainly didn't miss a thing. They hadn't discussed studying Occlumency alone, but she certainly appeared to share his assessment. Ron stalked off to Gryffindor tower and as they left the Great Hall together she asked him quietly, "so we'll be going to the dressing room then?" she asked looking into his face.
"No," he replied, pulling her into a dim corner of the corridor. "Take this," he said, pulling his invisibility cloak out of his bag. "I've had it with me all day not knowing when I could get it to you. I'll give you about ten minutes, after we get to the common room, before I open the portrait hole to leave." She put the cloak into her bag and nodded silently.
Before she knew it the time had come.
"Alright Ron," Harry said, getting up from the table in the far corner of the common room. "I'm going to head down to the pitch, I'll be back in a bit, don't wait up," he said, smiling. Ron slumped his shoulders, jabbing his quill back into the ink well, and waved to Harry as he opened the portrait hole.
"Where are we going?" Hermione whispered under the cloak.
"The same place we always go to teach each other in private," he said turning up the staircase to the seventh floor. They passed the tapestry of Barnabas the Balmy three times and a door suddenly appeared on the opposite side of the hall.
The Room of Requirement looked entirely different than the last time they had used it. When Harry led the meetings of the D.A. the room was large and lined with bookcases and cushions. It was more than adequate size for the members of the D.A. and even offered Harry a whistle when he found he needed one.
He was sure half their number wouldn't have fit in this room now. It was rather small and cozy, with two very large overstuffed chairs situated facing each other. The room was dim and smelled of lavender and vanilla. Sounds of nature filled the room, and the ceiling appeared to be enchanted similarly to the Great Hall's.
"Harry?" Hermione gasped looking around the room. "We are going to be studying Occlumency in here, right?" She looked at him disbelievingly. Harry couldn't help but think if his lessons had been done in such an inviting, warm, and calming space he would've progressed much faster.
"Of course," he said shutting the door behind him and taking the cloak from her outstretched arm. They both walked to the big chairs and sat down.
Harry spent the next thirty minutes telling her everything he knew about Occlumency. He told her what it felt like for him, how clearing his mind was the most important thing he could do, how he envisioned himself pressing into Snape's head. He left out any reference to the pensieve, but didn't feel he'd use it even if he had one available. Since the day he met Hermione, she seemed to know more about him than he did. He answered her questions, tried to put her at ease, and finally ended the conversation.
"So, are you ready to try it?" he asked cautiously.
"I suppose." she said, averting her eyes. He reached out at took her hands in his.
"It will be okay Hermione," he said softly. "I'm here."
She gave him a weak smile and pulled her hand out of his to retrieve her wand. She sat up on the edge of the chair and took a deep breath. Harry pulled out his wand and began to think about what he needed to do. He'd always been on the receiving end of this spell, but he felt pretty confident he could do what he had to.
"Legilimens!" he spoke firmly, wand pointed at Hermione.
Images raced into through his head. It was her birthday. She was five and the cake exploded. She was reading her Hogwarts acceptance letter to stunned parents. Harry saw himself lying in the hospital wing after the Triwizard tournament.
He broke off the spell.
She looked up at him quizzically, breathing rapidly. "Did you see that?" she asked in disbelief.
"I got glimpses of it," he said, remembering a near identical conversation with Professor Snape. "Why did the cake explode?"
Hermione looked away quickly and muttered, "I wanted a dolphin for the swimming pool in the backyard." Harry couldn't help but laugh.
"Let's try again," he said smiling. "Try to block me out," he added. She gave a quick nod and resituated herself on the edge of the chair.
"Legilimens!"
She was behind a pile of books in the library. She was walking with Harry on the wooded trail. She was reading her O.W.L. results. She was at the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum.
"Ouch!" Harry yelped. He was rubbing a bit of slime out of his eyes.
"Did I do that?" Hermione gasped.
"Yes," Harry said flatly. "I've never been hit with a conjunctivitis curse before, even if it was a weak one. There wouldn't have been anything you didn't want me to see there?" he said sarcastically.
"Perhaps." She smiled. "Besides, it doesn't matter. I'm in love with you, not Viktor." Before Harry could speak she added, "I think it would be helpful for me if you would let me in." she said to a rather confused Harry. "I mean, I know what it feels like for you to break into my head, but I think it would be helpful if you'd let down your guard so I can get into yours." Harry had the first glimpse of the trepidation she'd felt all day. However, this was for a good cause. As usual, Hermione made a fair point. He reluctantly agreed.
Harry was about to make the point that Hermione needed to understand Legilimancy first, when she demonstrated with surprising clarity, the obvious reach of her textbook learning.
"Legilimens!" Harry shook off the initial disbelief that she was able to perform the spell and tried to open his mind to her, imagining Snape sitting in her chair. The images were his. Dudley was effectively using him as a punching bag when he was eight. He stared in awe as he watched Percy run through the barrier to platform 9 ¾. A flurry of unrelated innocuous memories floated through his mind. But suddenly, the images shifted, becoming distinctly more ominous.
Voldemort rose from a wildly oversized cauldron. Wormtail lie shaking on the graveyard floor, clutching his stumped arm. Cedric fell to the ground in a haze of green light. Harry collapsed under the excruciating pain of the Cruciatus curse
I have to stop this now!
"Ouch!" she said, rubbing her wand hand. He had hit her with the same stinging hex he'd inadvertently used on Snape.
"I'm sorry Hermione," he said. "I just thought…" she interrupted.
"Oh, Harry." Her hand was now covering her mouth and her eyes were filled with tears. Harry had become quite used to his memories of Voldemort's rebirth, sometimes forgetting that he was the lone witness to the events of that evening. "Now it makes sense," she said quietly.
"What makes sense?" he asked.
"Last year…everything…how angry you were at everyone. It just…it makes sense." She ended in a whisper.
In a way, Harry was almost glad for what she'd seen. Everyone believed him now, but no one really understood what it was like. But with Hermione having been able to glimpse a bit of Harry's memories - strangely, he didn't feel so alone anymore.
They spent the next hour or so, bantering back and forth, discussing the images they saw in the other's mind. Some memories were serious, some were scary, and some were downright hilarious. They managed to lose track of time and decided it best to head back to Gryffindor Tower beneath the safety of the invisibility cloak. As they were preparing to leave, Hermione grasped Harry's arm and stopped him from opening the door.
"I have two questions before we go," she said decidedly. Harry turned around and focused his attention on her rich chocolate eyes.
"How do I know the dream isn't real?"
Harry didn't need any more explanation. Since he'd first shared Hermione's dream that plunged Harry into the Quidditch pitch at breakneck speed, he'd given the same question a lot of thought. He wasn't entirely sure this answer would be correct, but he had to assuage her fears.
"The dream I had about Sirius wasn't true. Not all dreams are. I think it's only in part due to him, I think the rest comes from you. You've always hated watching me dive during a game haven't you?" Harry asked, hoping for reassurance.
"Ugh, it completely turns my stomach. I am always afraid you'll be nothing but a hole in the pitch," Hermione said covering her eyes with her hand.
"See," Harry said raising her chin to meet her eyes. "Besides, I'm on the pitch all the time. If it were what Voldemort wanted done, it would've happened by now. I just hate to think what your dreams would be like after our first fight." He laughed, trying to lighten the mood. She smiled and gave a relieved sigh.
"Okay, then, second question. How did you make that pillow hit me this morning?" she said putting her hands on her hips with indignation.
Harry couldn't have asked for a better question. He stepped toward her with a smile, wrapped one arm around her waist, and pulled her into a passionate kiss. His other hand gently played in her soft hair, sending a visible shiver up her spine. She grasped at the back of his robes as a soft moan escaped her mouth and explored his. He gently leaned her back against the door jamb and worked his mouth down the long column of her neck. His warm breath ignited the hours old perfume she'd dabbed along her throat. The scent completely intoxicated him. Her throat worked against his lips and her head fell lightly to the side, exposing an alabaster strip of skin along her shoulder.
"Harry…" she moaned, letting her hands play in his unruly hair. He had the sinking feeling she was going to say something totally logical that made absolute sense. He was not in a state to listen, even though he knew she'd be right. If this was going to end, it was going to end on his terms. Afterall, he'd started it.
He dragged his lips back along her neck and fused his mouth firmly over hers before she could utter another syllable in that deep, rasping voice he'd only just been introduced to. She reciprocated his passionate embrace. Her tongue danced with his and their bodies pressed fully against each other.
When he let her go, she gasped for a breath, put her hand just under her throat and began to speak. Harry stopped her with another short kiss and responded to her comment before she could make it.
"I just imagined I was the pillow…doing that."
She regained some of her composure, caught her breath, and responded, "I guess I shouldn't have been so angry with you then." Harry smiled broadly as he wrapped them in his father's invisibility cloak. They laughed together and headed for Gryffindor tower.
Harry never had such a pleasant walk under the cloak before. Usually when he, Ron and/or Hermione were under it together, they bumped into each other and were crammed for space. Not that the same thing wasn't happening this evening, but neither Harry nor Hermione seemed to mind. She had both arms wrapped tightly around him, and walked with her head pressed into his chest. He had one arm around her back and the other holding the cloak away from their faces. As would be required under the cloak, they didn't speak a word as they traversed the halls. They clearly didn't mind stopping in a small alcove for Filch to pass by.
Harry stepped out from under the cloak, leaving Hermione underneath, and said "Tiddlywink." The fat lady swung open to reveal the portrait hole behind and Harry stepped through to an all but deserted common room.
Then he experienced the strangest sensation of déjà vu he'd ever had.
"Where have you been?" Ron bellowed. He sounded exactly like his mother had the day Ron and the twins rescued Harry from Privet Drive. Harry opened his mouth to speak and was quickly cut off. "Don't even tell me you've been down at the pitch! I got bored with this and went to look for you! Unless you're the captain of the Slytherin team, you sure weren't there this evening! I had to listen to another rendition of 'Weasley is our King' the whole way back to the castle!"
Harry was stuck. His brain was moving but he couldn't come up with any good excuses. "Well, I er-well, what it is," he started
"Wait! Before you dig yourself a deeper hole, I see what Crookshanks is doing. Take it off Granger!" he bellowed, looking to the exact location where Hermione was hidden, trying to make it to the girls' dormitory.
"Stupid cat," she said as she pulled off the invisibility cloak and handed it to Harry. Crookshanks threw his bottle brush tail into the air and pranced off happily toward the fire.
"You both have about 30 seconds to tell me the truth." Ron demanded. His face was beet red and he was pointing his wand directly them both.
If Ron was going for intimidation, he clearly missed the mark. "Oh, please. Put that thing away before you hex yourself Ron," Hermione scoffed as she flopped into her favorite squashy chair. Ron's eyes darted from his wand to Hermione and back again, clearly trying to determine where his plan had gone awry. Harry and Hermione exchange an entire conversation in a simple glance and Harry responded.
"Alright Ron, but you better sit down for this," Harry said, pointing to the vacant chair by the fire. Ron complied and sat down cautiously in the chair, still trying his best to glare at them both. Harry filed in behind him, taking a perch on the arm of the chair Hermione occupied. With one last glance toward her for courage he began to tell Ron the parts of the story he'd left out before.
He began the same way he had with Hermione.
"What I'm about to tell you only myself, Dumbledore, the Order, and now Hermione knows about." He thought to tell him it needed to remain secret, but decided he didn't need to do that. It was Ron. He would trust him with his life.
He took a breath and began his story in the Department of Mysteries. He told Ron the importance of the orb and why Voldemort had wanted to hear it. Hermione grasped Harry's hand in hers as he explained the prophecy to Ron. When he stopped to ensure Ron understood its meaning, he couldn't help but notice Hermione had buried her head in the arm of the chair. He squeezed her hand and continued on. He ended the conversation with his theory of Voldemort's new connection to Hermione. Ron shifted uncomfortably as he mentioned the name but soon composed himself as Harry described their first foray into Occlumency together.
"So, did it work?" Ron asked, eyes wide.
"I don't think Occlumency is something you learn in one day, but we've certainly made a good start," Harry replied. He turned to Hermione and added, "But you need to do what I do at night, you need to practice the relaxation techniques Tonks has been teaching us. It will help you clear your head at night. It will help stop the dreams." Hermione looked away, seeming to remember her recurring nightmare. She nodded gently and looked up at Ron.
"I'm sorry we didn't tell you everything earlier. It just seemed like so much at one time, we thought it would be better to…" Ron cut her off.
"Better to leave me in the dark! You know, Harry knows, even my parents have known about this and no one bothers to tell me that my best friend might be murdered tomorrow!" Ron roared. Hermione winced at the mere thought of it. Harry tried to calm him before he woke the full count of Gryffindors sleeping above.
"Look, Ron. I know you're angry and you deserve to be but…" he began.
"But what Harry? I may not be your girlfriend, but I'm your best friend and I care about you too. I have as much a right to know about this as she does!" he said getting to his feet and stomping off toward the fire. Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick, cautious, glance and silently agreed to let Ron get it out of his system.
He continued quietly. "Our fourth year was the longest I've ever been at Hogwarts without you Harry. That time I was so angry with you over something so stupid. It could've happened then and I would never have had the chance to say I was sorry," he said calming considerably.
"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, cuing in. "Is that what this is all about? Listen to me," she said, getting to her feet and moving to Ron's side. "Believe me when I say, Harry could've died fighting that Horntail and he still would've died knowing you love him. Even though he was mad he didn't go a minute without thinking about you. I know! I was there. And even if you never knew what he just told you, and it happened tomorrow, he'd still feel the same thing." Hermione was holding Ron's hand now.
Harry was exceptionally grateful Hermione had stepped in. Everything she said was true but it wasn't anything Harry could ever have said to Ron comfortably. Ron gave Hermione a gentle hug and Harry did as best as he could do to cross the room and lighten the mood.
"You - uh…gonna let go anytime soon?" Harry said spryly, glancing between Ron and Hermione, his face cracking into a grin. Ron raised an eyebrow at him, the look on his face unreadable, and without breaking eye contact with Harry, gave Hermione a peck on the top of her head.
"Now I will," he said. There was a noticeable silence that lasted only a fleeting moment. Harry extended his hand toward Ron's. He was shocked when Ron grasped it and quickly pulled Harry into a manly, back slapping embrace. "Alright, so now what do we do about Voldemort." Ron finished.
Neither Harry nor Hermione missed the fact this was likely the first time Ron ever used his name without shuddering. They all flopped back into their chairs and spent the next several hours passing time as only best friends can.
***
Ron had honored, mainly Hermione's wish, to let them continue Occlumency alone. She'd confided to Harry that while she didn't mind telling Ron some important details of her life, she didn't want him ringside when she had no editorial control. It was bad enough Harry had learned about some of her childhood exploits. She didn't want to give Ron any additional ammunition for the times he was feeling sporting. Given Harry's propensity to referee their shouting matches, he could completely understand her position.
They continued in their classes, Hermione never failing to take note of Harry and Ron's redoubled efforts to learn the coursework. Weeks seemed to fly by and exams were beginning to hover on the horizon.
Harry looked up from the homework planner he'd begrudgingly, albeit clandestinely, decided to use. His eyes feel upon a sickeningly satisfied Hermione. She silently raised an eyebrow and broke into a wry grin.
"Oh! Be quiet, Hermione," Harry said flatly. "I just needed to organize my studies and Quidditch all in one place." Her smile grew wider. Harry rolled his eyes and returned to his calendar.
Wonderful. There will be no living with her after this.
You'd like that wouldn't you?
Stuff a sock in it.
"Alright Harry?" Ron said settling down into the chair beside him.
"Fine, if Queen told-you-so over here would leave me alone," he said grinning. They both smiled and Ron hovered over Harry's calendar.
"Oh, thank goodness, Quidditch practice. I'm so tired of writing essays I nearly attacked your stash of Fred and George's Skiving Snackboxes," Ron said smirking.
"Well, it won't be a long practice. I've got another three feet of parchment to write for McGonagall," Harry said dejectedly.
"Well, you best get to it before you go off and play or you'll be up all night." Hermione's voice came from behind The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six. Both Harry and Ron shot each other a defiant look but chose not to respond - if only because they knew she was right. The three of them poured over their books, quills scratching, for the next several hours, until Ginny appeared in the common room with her broomstick.
"Harry, if you're going to call a practice don't you think it would be a good idea to come to it?" she said bending over his shoulder.
The Quidditch finals were quickly approaching and Gryffindor desperately needed the practice, even if it was only a brief one. Harry snapped his left arm from under his robes and looked at his watch. He had booked the pitch for two hours, and their appointed time started in only ten minutes.
"Bloody hell!" Ron quipped as he slapped his potions text closed and ran upstairs. Harry followed quickly behind and the both changed into their Quidditch robes in record time. When they reappeared at the bottom of the stairs, Ginny had already left. They had only five minutes to get to the pitch before they lost their reservation. Harry stopped abruptly, ran over to give a bleary-eyed Hermione a peck on the cheek, then clamored through the portrait hole just steps behind Ron.
***
Flying seemed to take on new meaning for Harry since the summer. It had always cleared his head, it had always lifted his spirits, but now it seemed to warm his heart as well. He gathered the team on the pitch and worked out some of his musings in the sand beneath the three hoops. Needless to say, he was not very happy to look about the spectators' seats. There were likely a dozen people scattered about the pitch, watching their practice. Harry had asked McGonagall if he could close their practices to onlookers, but Ron answered before she had.
"Are you mad Harry? There are scouts for the Chudley Cannons out there and you want to lock them out to protect your strategy? You played with Oliver Wood entirely too long."
The team must've have run through his attack pattern fifteen times before he was satisfied enough to actually open the chest of balls. Ginny took enormous pleasure at hurling the quaffle toward her brother. Ron was equally determined to not let his little sister score. Harry lined up the new beaters on either side of the chasers attack lane and ran them through several dodging drills. An hour slipped by rapidly and Harry decided to leave the team to their own drills while he worked on catching the snitch.
He had seen it several times, jetting around the pitch, while he worked with the team, but now that he was looking for it specifically it seemed much harder to find. He ran through his pattern, swirling higher and higher above the pitch. He looked up at the castle, Gryffindor tower in plain view, and his thoughts drifted back to Hermione. He imagined her still hunched over that table, heading into what had to be her fifth straight hour of studies. He closed his eyes and remembered their time flying together at the burrow. When he opened them again, he saw the familiar glint of gold, zipping around the far end of the pitch, about 40 feet below him.
He sat off in a lateral attack pattern, chasing the snitch around the perimeter of the pitch. He darted in and out of the other players, dodging the occasional bludger as he continued on. Wild screaming erupted from the far end of the pitch and he made the mistake of looking away from the snitch toward the commotion.
Ron had broken into his own rendition of "Weasley is our Queen" while taunting his currently shut-out sister. Ginny did not respond well to his joke and was claiming (not so convincingly) that she thought his head was the center hoop.
"Well it's certainly big enough!" He heard her blast from across the pitch - Ron holding his nose to stop the bleeding. Harry chuckled under his breath and returned to his strategy to relocate the snitch. It didn't take long.
He saw it glinting in the fading sunlight, directly beneath him. It was in perfect position to practice his new dive. He set off toward the fluttering glint of gold. This was the part he loved. He loved the wind in his hair and the adrenaline that came with the breakneck speeds he posted in his descent.
Most of all, he loved the agility of his broomstick. It seemed to do what he thought, rather than what he did. It never took more than a touch to turn it from side to side, or pull out of a near fatal dive. He pressed lower to the handle and reached out for the snitch. It was only about 20 feet from him now, but he'd be there in a matter of milliseconds. He would do it just as he had before, grab the snitch with his left hand, leaving his stronger right arm available to invert his position and pull him out from under a would-be competitor. He'd practiced it so many times this year, he felt as though it were finally ready for a match…the match…the Quidditch Cup.
He felt his left hand close around the snitch. Its wings fluttered against the back of his hand. He heard the cheers of his teammates over the rush of the wind and broke into an uncontrollable smile…that quickly vanished.
His Firebolt was not responding at all. He couldn't have been more than twenty feet from the ground at this point and was quickly running out of room to complete the maneuver. He abandoned the attempt to invert and merely tried to pull up all together - nothing. He suddenly realized he'd seen this scene before and tried even harder to pull the Firebolt horizontal to the ground. He merely seemed to accelerate instead. His teammates cheers turned to panicked screaming and Ron's voice echoed in his head… "HARRY! PULL UP!"
Hermione lurched forward in her chair and awoke with a jolt. She leapt from the table clutching her head with her left hand and holding a heaving stomach with the other. Through watering eyes she ran for the portrait hole and disappeared down the stairs.