"Good luck, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, planting a kiss upon Ron's cheek. "You too, Harry!" She repeated the gesture upon Harry's cheek. She stared at them, beaming, as they got up from their places at the Gryffindor table, grasping their brooms. "Don't do anything stupid out there," she added, before they departed the Great Hall with the swarms of other people already making their way towards the Quidditch Pitch.
Harry absent-mindedly placed his hand upon the cheek Hermione had kissed. He then quickly removed it, shaking his head, thinking why on Earth a simple kiss from Hermione was so . . . nice.
Harry blinked a couple of times.
That kiss . . . wasn't nice. It was just a little tradition that was just understood between he, Ron and Hermione. Before a Quidditch match, she would give a good luck kiss to both of them. That was all. It gave Harry no right to dwell on its . . . niceness.
"Hey, Harry, you ready?" Ron asked, breaking through Harry's thoughts.
"Yes," he replied quietly. He cleared his throat. "Yes, I'm ready," he repeated a lot louder. Ron clapped him on the back as they stepped outside of Hogwarts and towards the changing rooms.
Harry didn't say much on the walk towards the changing rooms out on the field. He basically just let Ron do the talking, hoping that his best friend would just see his silence as a case of nerves about the game. When really . . . Harry's mind was very far from the game.
His mind was mainly focused on the confusing things running through it.
Hermione this, Hermione that. When did I notice this and why haven't I noticed that?
"Harry, the changing rooms are this way," Ron's voice said uncertainly towards Harry's right. He turned his head towards the voice, only to discover that he was at least three feet away from the direction of the changing rooms, about to wander out into the middle of the field, where he could already hear spectators assembling there.
"Oh . . ." he said shortly. An awkward moment sprang between the two best friends as Harry began to hurriedly think of ways to cover up his odd behaviour, and as Ron began contemplating on reasons behind his odd behaviour.
"Erm. . . shall we go in then? You don't want to keep the team waiting, do you?" Harry said, quickly sidestepping Ron and entering the changing rooms. He could tell that Ron was beginning to suspect something, and he really didn't want to go into whatever it was he suspected, prolonging the awkwardness between them.
Ron just stared after Harry, puzzled, then shrugged and entered the changing rooms as well. He was Quiddicth captain and he had a duty to fulfill. So his Seeker was slowly going bonkers . . . that wasn't a concern of his.
Yes it is, his mind told him.
Ron eyed Harry, who was looking awfully pensive and only halfway through putting on his Quidditch gear.
Well, whatever it is, it can wait. We have a game to play!
* * *
It was a good thing that the rest of the Gryffindor team was playing excellently, because Harry was bringing the team nowhere with his pointless flying. An hour into the game and neither Seeker had caught the snitch. The poor Hufflepuff Seeker, who really did have potential, was nervous beyond nervous on playing against Harry Potter.
Even then, she had come closer to catching the snitch the two times it had appeared through the game than Harry did. He just couldn't focus.
"And another near miss for Potter and Wainwright as the snitch disappears from sight!" echoed Dennis Creevy's voice around the pitch.
Harry gripped his Firebolt tightly, shutting his eyes furiously for a moment and shaking his head. Yards away, Ron keenly watched his friend attempt to clear his head of whatever it was that was fogging it up. He was clearly not playing well . . . and Ron really couldn't afford the team losing this game.
"TIME OUT!" he bellowed to Madam Hooch, who nodded and blew fiercely into her whistle. All playing stopped; Ron signalled to the team to land.
"What's wrong?" Seamus Finnegan, one of the Beaters, asked as he landed next to Ron.
"Harry's playing is what's wrong!" Ginny voiced out breathlessly.
"Hey, why are you picking on me?" Harry put in defensively. "You're a Chaser, shouldn't you score some goals?"
"In case you haven't noticed," Ginny said scathingly, glaring daggers at Harry, "we were leading Hufflepuff by quite a bit! But because you're taking your sweet, sweet time in catching the snitch --"
" -- I have the hardest job of them all! It's not my fault that --"
"-- there's only a matter of time before us Chasers collapse from exhaustion, and --"
"QUIET!"
The heated bickering between Harry and the Chasers ceased. Ron was breathing heavily in front of them. A sharp whistle met everyone's ears and Madam Hooch gestured to them that they had two minutes left. Ron turned towards his team.
"Look, we didn't come here to blame everyone," he said. "But Harry, what's with you out there?" he asked pleadingly.
"I don't know!" Harry exclaimed. "I just can't focus on the game right now . . ." he answered.
"What else is bothering you?"
"Nothing . . ." he lied, in a tone that meant 'yes, there is something bothering me, but I'd rather not say'. This didn't go pass Ron, and for a moment, there was a silence where he thought on whether he should force the truth out of Harry.
"Mr. Weasley, time's up!" Madam Hooch barked.
Ron clapped his hands together. "Alright, team," he said. "Just try and hold out a little longer. I'm sure Harry will get his act together," he said pointedly.
Harry nodded. Satisfied, Ron flew back into the air, his team following.
* * *
"Harry sure isn't playing very well today," Parvati said to Lavendar, who nodded vigorously.
"Lay off him, alright?! Just because he's Harry Potter doesn't mean he's not entitled to having an off day!" Hermione snapped viciously. With an alarmed and somewhat frightened look, Parvati and Lavendar slowly inched away.
"You were a bit harsh with 'em, don't yeh think?" a gruff voice said, feet above her. She looked up into the amused face of Hagrid. His kind eyes glanced down towards her and the broad smile donning his face became more apparent through his thick beard. "I'd say someone was being a tad defensive . . ."
"Hermione sighed. "I just hate it when people jump to conclusions about Harry because of him being -- well, Harry."
"But yeh can' deny that his game's a little off."
Hermione covered her mouth as the rest of the crowd gasped, observing a Bludger miss Harry by inches. Withdrawing her hand from her mouth, she nodded weakly. "Yes, I know."
"Was there anything the matter with 'im this mornin'?" Hagrid asked.
Hermione's brow furrowed as she pondered upon the events of that morning. She slowly shook her head. "No . . . no, there was nothing wrong. Everything was normal, actually. Me, Ron and Harry walked down to the Great Hall. . . they prepared to leave. . . so I gave them their good luck kisses. . . "
"Their good luck what?" Hagrid questioned in surprise.
"Don't get the wrong idea, Hagrid. I always give them good luck kisses on the cheek before a game."
"Looks like we've found the problem, then," he said. Hermione whipped around.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked a little too shrilly.
"Well, 'arry is a seventeen-year-old boy. It'd be a wonder if his mind wasn't addled after a kiss from a pretty girl."
"Hagrid . . . really . . ." Hermione began, blushing crimson.
"You think I'm lyin'? Look at our favourite Seeker now."
Hermione bit her lip skeptically and rested her gaze on Harry's form in the sky. Even from afar it was evident that he was looking right back at her.
* * *
He didn't know how he did it. He just seemed to have the natural ability of picking out Hermione in a crowd. How could he not? Her bushy, brown hair was one of a kind and Harry was sure that he'd be able to catch a glimpse of her smile from a far distance.
WHOOSH!
A wind rustled the tips of Harry's hair as a Bludger just missed him.
"Watch yourself, Harry!" Seamus yelled over the cheers of the spectators as he zoomed after the Bludger, club held tightly in this hand. Harry flew a little bit to the side, in case the Bludger decided to come pelting towards the same direction again.
Concentrate ... you've done this dozens of times!
And then he saw it.
That innocent, little ball of gold, hovering metres away from the opponent's goal posts. He chanced a look at the Hufflepuff Seeker, who was gliding around nonchalantly. Everyone else seemed to be doing their own thing as well.
"HUFFLEPUFF NOW LEADS, EIGHTY TO FIFTY!"
Harry gripped his broom tightly and was off at lightening speed towards the snitch. His body was now fully pressed against the length of the broom. He kept his squinted eyes fixed upon the golden sphere as wind rushed past his face. He stretched out his arm ... it was just a little further ...
WHAM!
A Bludger rammed into his outstretched arm. Talk about a repeat of second year. Stars sprinkled his vision momentarily as the pain throbbed horribly in his arm, but the snitch was still in sight.
His right arm now dangling listlessly, Harry stretched out his left arm, desperately holding onto the broom with his knees locked together.
His fingertips brushed the cool, metallic surface of the fluttering ball once ... twice ... three times ... then --
"HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! HE CAUGHT THE BLOODY SNITCH, FINALLY!" Dennis yelled triumphantly. "GRYFFINDOR WINS!"
Cheers erupted from all around the pitch, making the chastisements of Dennis' bad language impossible to hear. Harry held the snitch high into the air, his teammates already flying over. He stared back into the stands, the sight of a certain someone beaming, making his stomach unexpectedly flip.
* * *
Harry sat in the hospital wing, getting his broken arm mended, but surrounded by his ecstatic teammates. They were popping open the bottles of Butterbeer and talking about their victory with much gusto. Harry was surprised Madam Pomfrey hadn't come rampaging in yet.
He leaned against the pillows propping him up, happily sipping some Butterbeer that someone had snuck into the infirmary, listening to the excited chatter around him.
"Harry!"
He turned his head, sitting up, to see the jubilant face (with a hint of worry) of Hermione. He smiled broadly at her. It was an automatic reflex when she was near.
"Oh, Harry, you were great out there! I mean, at first it seemed that you weren't focusing at all, but then you caught the snitch!" She grinned, but the grin immediately dropped when she saw the sling around his arm. "How long do you have to wear that?" she asked concernedly.
"Only for one hour, to keep my arm in place as the potion goes into effect," he said.
Silence fell between them. The Gryffindor team was causing such a ruckus that no one saw the awkwardness. To put an end to it, Hermione then did something that made Harry's nerves inexplicably jump: she laid her hand upon his own (his good one, that is) comfortingly.
"Well, you've been through worse," she said lightheartedly, though her face said otherwise. There was something ... something in the way she looked at him ... as if she were urging him to tell her something ...
Harry had always been told that actions speak louder than words. So he leaned in slowly, his eyes closing, his mind fixed upon the idea that if he kissed her ... it'd explain things a lot better than he could put into words. He was vaguely aware that she was leaning in too ...
"Harry, mate, that was brilliant! The way you caught the snitch!" Ron's boisterous voice resounded in their ears. At the speed of light, they moved apart; Harry pretending to play with the bedspread and Hermione flattening her hair in an attempt to look completely innocent. As Ron entered into an enthusiastic recount of the game, Harry and Hermione exchanged very small, and nervous, smiles with each other.
"And then, when Ginny faked that she was going to the left when really, she was going to the right, she --"
"OUT! OUT NOW!"
By the thunderous voice that drilled into everyone's ears, Harry suspected that Madam Pomfrey had arrived. Everyone proceeded to scurrying out the door.
Before leaving, Hermione went up to Harry once again and smiled brightly. "Well," she said, "see you later then!"
Her lips made contact with his cheek. Her soft lips made contact with his cheek. And this time, if Harry wasn't imagining things, it felt as if she made her lips linger there for a moment longer.
Ron had seen what had transpired between the two. Hermione's "friendly" kiss and Harry's extremely dazed and confused, far-off look.
That's why he couldn't concentrate on the match!
"Mr. Weasley, I suggest that you leave this instant if you want your precious Seeker's bones to be fixed in time for the next match!"
"Right, ma'am!" Ron said dutifully, grabbing his broom and hurrying out. He ran up the steps to Gryffindor Tower, meaning to speak with his two friends on what exactly was going on.