Good Luck Kisses

"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.

When Ron reached the Common Room, Hermione was already working away on her homework, her books and parchments spread all over the table. She looked up as she heard the Portrait Door slam shut and smiled jovially. "Hello, Ron," she said.

Ron smiled too and sat down at her table, moving some of her scribbled notes aside. "Hey," he said. She smiled again and when Ron didn't say anything further, she nodded uncertainly then returned to her work. Ron wasn't quite sure what to say. All he knew was that he had to say something because he needed to find out for certain if his theory of The Distracted Seeker was correct.

He took a deep breath. "Hermione, why do you always give us a good luck kiss?" he asked all in one breath. She stopped writing for a moment and slowly lifted her head up to look at him. She had one eyebrow raised and was staring at him oddly.

"I - I don't know. I just do. Why?" she asked in return. Ron was fumbling with his hands underneath the table. He didn't like it when Hermione looked at him like that. He always felt stupid.

"Well ... I just think that - that your kisses are a little distracting."

The look remained on her face and she slowly rested her head upon her hand as her elbow propped itself up on the table. "But Ron, you were playing excellently today ..."

"I wasn't talking about me," Ron said seriously, looking at her studiously. Hermione's expression was blank for a few seconds, but it took no time for her eyes to widen in realisation.

"You mean, Harry, don't you," she said quietly.

"Were you watching the game?" Ron questioned sarcastically.

"But you honestly think that that happened because of me?" Hermione queried, half worried but admittedly, half smug. She then shook out of her self-satisfied reverie and paid rapt attention to Ron again. "Well, I didn't do it on purpose ..."

"I know, I know. It's just that ... well ... I don't want that to happen at our next game. We're against Slytherin and we have to win."

"Well, what do you want me to do? First of all, I think it's highly ridiculous that you think this is all because of my good luck kisses."

"It seems like the only reasonable explanation! Harry doesn't just play like crap like that," he said, snapping his fingers for emphasis.

Hermione bit her quill. She stared down at her writing, the scribbles blurring together, as she thought about what Ron was getting at. She slowly faced Ron, who had resorted to pacing back and forth and said in a small voice, "So you don't want me to kiss him before the next game, is that it?"

Ron wheeled around to face her. "Yes, that's it! At least then, it won't distract him so much and we'll surely win against Slytherin!" He stared at Hermione, who sighed.

"This sounds so stupid and far-fetched ... but fine. I won't kiss Harry before the game." She looked down at her hands, feeling a little numb.

Ron grabbed the chair next to her and scooted over. "Thank you. I'm sure this is what threw Harry's game off today. It's just for that day. One day only. After that, you could have a snog session with him for all I care. I promise."

Hermione chuckled and Ron soon joined into her laughter as well, thinking that they were just laughing at a good joke.

"Okay, well I'm off to the showers," and he left, bounding up the staircase to the boys' dormitories.

Hermione watched him climb the steps. When he was gone from sight, she pulled out a fresh quill, licked the tip before dabbing it into her ink bottle and said, before beginning her writing again, "I'm holding you to that promise, Weasley."

* * *

Harry felt a little apprehensive as he neared entering the Common Room. What would he say if he saw Hermione in there? Things weren't exactly the same anymore after the little episode in the Hospital Wing, the more he thought about it. They almost kissed each other ... really kissed each other, not just a peck on the cheek. He couldn't believe that he nearly did it in front of the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team. When did he become such an exhibitionist?

He stepped through the Portrait Hole but wasn't greeted by either Hermione or Ron. Shrugging, he proceeded up to his dormitory. At least he'll have a little more time to contemplate the Hermione matter.

But what was there to contemplate? He liked her, obviously, and it seemed that she liked him as well. It was just the factor of them being best friends that made it so damn hard.

"Hi, Harry," Ron said as he entered the boys' dormitory. Ron was the only one in the room which Harry found quite odd.

"Hi, Ron," he replied. "I'm going to go take a shower." He started fishing out a towel and change of clothes when -

"Wait! Before you go, Harry, there's something I need to ask you." Harry turned around. This was it. Ron was going to tell him his suspicions of what happened during Quidditch and Harry was going to have to tell him the truth of him secretly daydreaming about Hermione and her good luck kisses ...

"Was it Hermione's good luck kiss that distracted you before the game?" he asked straight out.

Harry blinked. That was quick.

"Erm ... what makes you ask?" he said, trying to sound careless.

Ron shrugged. "I don't know. I just assumed. Hermione thinks that it's a stupid idea, but I -"

"You talked to Hermione about this?" Harry asked a little too worriedly.

"Yeah ... was that wrong?"

Harry shook his head. "N-no, of course not. I was only wondering."

"Yeah ..." Ron looked at him strangely. "So, you didn't answer the question."

"What was the question?"

"Er ... Hermione's good luck kiss. Was that what distracted you out there?"

Harry took a deep breath ... then forced out a laugh. "Hah, Ron. That's silly! It's only Hermione! Hey well, I'm off to take a shower. Bye!"

He exited the dormitory quickly (but not too quickly to appear weird), leaving Ron bewildered. The game just couldn't come soon enough. Maybe then both Harry and Hermione would stop acting so odd.

* * *

"Okay ... you ready, Harry?" Ron asked, shovelling his last helping of eggs and sausage into his mouth. "Our game against Slytherin is less than an hour away."

Harry gulped, trying very hard to ignore the lurching feeling in his stomach that threatened to push the contents of his breakfast back up. He blinked several times, wondering why he was so nervous. He's played against Slytherin plenty of times, what was any different?

It's your last year, therefore your last shot at beating Malfoy! a voice rang in his head. He swallowed again.

"Right, we should start heading out now. I reckon we should squeeze in some warm-up flying to loosen the nerves," Ron said, getting up from the table. He took approximately two and half strides to exit the Great Hall when he noticed that Harry wasn't following him. He slowly turned around and saw Harry staring gloomily at his half-eaten plate of food. "You coming, mate, or what?"

"Y-yeah," Harry responded, slowly getting up from the table as well. He looked around the Great Hall curiously, as if he expected someone to come running towards him. "Have you seen Hermione?" he asked.

"I don't know. I didn't see her in the Common Room or anything on my way down here. Now come on, Harry, the rest of the team is already leaving!" Ron put in urgently. Still peering over the sea of heads in the Great Hall, Harry reluctantly followed Ron.

"There you guys are!" a voice shouted from the top of the marble staircase. Hermione came running down and stopped right in front of them. "I almost thought I'd miss you!" Quick as a flash, Hermione leaned in and kissed Ron deftly on the cheek. She pulled back, smiling broadly, when Ron pulled her back in slightly.

He whispered into her ear, "Remember...we can't afford Harry losing this game." Hermione's smile faded slightly. She turned towards Harry, who, unknowingly to her and unconsciously to him, was mentally psyching himself up for her traditional good luck kiss.

But instead, she placed a hand on his arm and squeezed it reassuringly. Or it was meant to be reassuring ... it felt oddly tense and awkward. "Good luck out there, Harry," Hermione said, in a voice that was meant to pump up Harry's self-esteem. Somehow, it came out sounding a bit restrained.

Harry's head whirled at this unusual display of good luck. What happened to the kiss she always gave? Was it something he did? Did his face somehow show off his emotions and he came off a bit too strong? Was he ever going to feel her soft lips make contact with his skin ever again? He was stunned speechless and would probably have stood in that same spot, rooted in surprise, had it not been for Ron elbowing him in the ribs. With a strangled "Thanks" he took off after Ron towards the changing rooms, his mind reeling even more uncontrollably when it did when he had been reflecting upon the niceness of Hermione's good luck kiss before the last game.

He felt himself thinking, I want the niceness back.

* * *

"The Bludgers out there seem extra violent ... either that or Potter just can't fly today!"

Harry attempted to block out Dennis's commentary. With Bludgers pelting him left and right, and the other players out on the field to look out for, Harry found that searching for the Snitch was near impossible. It didn't help at all that every second, a little thing would bring the thought of Hermione in his mind. Which then lead to reminiscing about her good luck kisses. Which then lead to the questions on why she didn't give him one today...

The spectators around the Quidditch Pitch gasped and "ooh-ed" as Draco Malfoy "accidentally" knocked into Harry's broom, sending him off to the side and grasping onto the Firebolt's broom handle for dear life. Righting himself up on the broom, Harry glared menacingly at Malfoy, who was laughing heartily at him.

"What's wrong, Potter? You're playing worse than you usually play ... and that's saying something!" he continued laughing.

"I don't see how you could make all these comments about how bad I play, when really, I've beaten you every time we've played against each other!" Harry yelled back. Malfoy abruptly stopped laughing and glowered at him. For a moment, Harry got the impression that he was going to ram his broom into his again when ...

All of a sudden, a green blur zipped right by, nearly hitting Harry. Harry whipped around on his broom and sped after it, knowing what that glimmer in Malfoy's eyes meant.

He had seen the Snitch.

Harry desperately flew after Malfoy, the wind painfully whipping his face, but his broom not quite catching up. He could see the golden glint of the Snitch ... and how close Malfoy was to catching it. It was going to take a miracle for Harry to suddenly speed up those necessary few feet and catch the Snitch.

WHAM!

Two Bludgers appeared out of nowhere, one hitting Harry hard on the arm and the other flashing just in front of Malfoy, causing him to stop sharply. Still shocked from the impact of the Bludger against his arm, Harry didn't watch where he was going and crashed into Malfoy from behind.

"Trying to knock me off my broom, Potter?" Malfoy asked angrily, quickly backing up with his broom, so he could get away from Harry as fast as he could.

"Seems about right," Harry said through gritted teeth. His arm may be hurting like hell ... but he had to admit that seeing Malfoy fall off his broom was worth any pain.

"You're dead," Malfoy said, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I thought we already covered this," Harry said nonchalantly. "I'm flying, aren't I?"

"TIME OUT!!!" Harry heard Ron's voice shout around the pitch. Sharing one last malicious glance with Malfoy, Harry landed, the rest of the Gryffindor team doing the same.

"Harry! What's up?" Ron asked alarmingly. "It was lucky Seamus saw how close Malfoy was and knocked the Bludger up in that direction!"

"Yes, and I suppose that it was also lucky that the second Bludger hit me right in the arm? Mind you, it was the arm I just broke!" Harry snapped. He was extremely moody, thanks to Malfoy, his awful playing, and the damn thoughts of Hermione!

"Forget about that Bludger! The important thing is, Malfoy almost caught the Snitch! Harry, if we lose, Slytherin wins the Quidditch Cup!"

"Well, did you ever stop and think for a minute that it won't be the end of the world if we do lose this game? Just because I'm the Seeker, does it mean that losing the Quidditch Cup will forever shame me and the rest of you?" Harry spat.

Ron took a step forward. "Don't say things that you know isn't true. We're a team here, and I know that winning the Quidditch Cup isn't like the quest for the Holy Grail, but I thought that we were Gryffindors ... and I thought that meant something!"

"What's wrong this time, Harry?" Ginny asked, actually concerned this time.

"I-I don't know," he answered. He didn't understand. Could Hermione's good luck kisses really affect him, like Ron said? And if they did, why was he still playing bad, even when she didn't give him a kiss?

"Harry!"

He turned around, the rest of the team peering over his shoulder as well in interest, to see Hermione rushing up to them. Her face was alight and slightly pink from the running she had to do to get to where they were standing. She stopped in front of Harry, taking deep breaths, but fighting to speak.

"H-Harry. I know why you're playing is off!" she panted, clutching a stitch in her side.

"You do?" Harry questioned uncertainly.

"Yes! I forgot to give you this -"

She grabbed the back of his head and dragged it down, engulfing his lips with hers in a heated kiss.

Harry was so shocked that he dropped his broom and didn't react. Hermione was kissing him! Really kissing him!

She pulled back, more breathless than before, her face sporting one of the most beautiful smiles Harry had ever seen upon her face.

"Good luck out there, Harry," she said, winking.

A whistle blew and the whole team and Hermione looked up at the hovering Madam Hooch.

"One minute!" she bellowed.

Ron turned back to his team. "Look, I'm up for giving it all we got. But if some of us aren't going to give a hundred percent, we might as well forfeit."

Harry looked Ron in the eye then back at Hermione. Feeding off his newfound vigor, he stuck his hand out for Ron and nodded. "We're going to win this."

A smile stretched upon Ron's face and he grasped Harry's hand tightly and they shook.

"But first, just to be sure-" Harry dropped his broom, turned around and kissed Hermione. On the lips, thank you very much. "I want all the luck I can get."

"That's great, but let's do this after the game!" Ron said, breaking between the two. "Now let's go play!"

* * *

Tears of joy blurred his vision. Red and yellow confetti showered from above and he was surrounded by his teammates. He could barely hear over the deafening yells of victory. Six hands, including his own, grasped the handles of the Quidditch Cup, and with his team, he held it high into the air. If possible, the crowds’ screams got even louder.

"Where's Harry?! He should be holding this with us!" Ginny shouted into his ear, him barely hearing anything at all.

"I can take a guess at where he's at! Has something to do with what I promised Hermione!" Ron screamed back, his thoughts being confirmed when he didn't see a head of bushy, brown hair anywhere. "It's alright! I'm sure he's having fun, now let's just have our own!" And he held the Cup higher to a new wave of cheers.