Disclaimer in Chapter One...
~*~
Chapter Three: Quidditch and the Ever After
~*~
Realizations
~*~
Harry Potter opened the door to his flat a little past midnight. He had just gotten back from flying with Hermione. They had been out for quite a few hours. Neither one of them had looked at the time; nor did they seem to care. Which is the exact reason that as Harry entered his flat, he kicked the door shut behind him and stumbled into his living room without even bothering to turn on the lights. He collapsed onto the couch; but, not before punching at the wall above it as he fell.
"You're an idiot Potter!" he grumbled to himself, turning his random punches to a pillow on the couch even though his knuckled hurt quite a bit still from the wall incident. He held the pillow firmly in his grasp and he let his breathing subside. Finally, he fell onto his back looking upwards.
'It's Hermione you dolt. You should not have done that!' Harry couldn't help but berate himself. He'd allowed himself to get carried away for quite a few hours by the feeling of Hermione in his arms. He could still remember the smell of her hair and the sounds of her amusement as they tore through the skyline. He'd had such a wonderful time, but as it turned out, a little too wonderful. Now he couldn't stop thinking about her. And he honestly had no idea why he couldn't get her image out of his head. It's not like they hadn't spent multiple hours in close proximity before. There'd been the time they had to huddle in the corner under Harry's invisibility cloak for nearly four hours when Filch walked into a classroom they'd been in and had begun doing some repairs on the only doorway out. They'd even shared the same bed before at Hogwarts, strictly platonically, but still, Harry had never felt anything those other times. This was why he was so distraught now. He is a very smart wizard and to not be able to figure something out that should be blatantly obvious was killing him.
~*~
Harry awoke the next morning with an incredibly bad headache. He moaned as the sunlight hit his face and rolled onto his side facing away from the window. That's when he saw the half empty bottle of fire whiskey sitting on his nightstand. He groaned again as he remembered last night's events. Dinner, flying, and then the alcohol he'd attempted to wash it all away with. Yet, all the thoughts of her (including her scent which still hung to his last night's clothes he'd fallen asleep in) came flooding back as he woke up more, leaving him with them, and an additional hangover.
Harry's morning was rather slow. He dragged through his daily routine for so long, that by the time he was done, he had fifteen minutes to be suited up and on the field for Quidditch practice. After finally noticing the time, Harry bolted to his room to grab his broom, the quickly Disapparated to the Chudley Cannons stadium.
When he arrived, he sprinted down the long corridor to the team's locker room where everyone was either finishing dressing for practice or was already out on the field.
"Hey Harry, you feeling okay? You look like you got hit by a truck!" laughed William as he laced up his arm guards. He was right to say so; Harry looked terrible, out of breath, and still a bit ragged from his long night and unpleasant morning.
"I will be as soon as I can get some fresh air on my face out there on the field," said Harry as he began yanking out every piece of his uniform from the locker next to William's. He refused to make eye contact and was rather gruff with William.
"What happened mate?" said William leaning over and lowering his voice to a whisper. He knew it wasn't like Harry to treat his friends in such a brash manner. It had to be something else that was getting to him.
"Hermione's lesson." said Harry in an equally inaudible voice as he sent death glares across the room to where Timothy Eton was admiring himself in a mirror. He muttered what sounded like some choice curse words under his breath as William watched him with interest.
"So she is bad at flying, what's the big deal?" said William cautiously as he watched Harry continue to glare at Eton. He knew how powerful Harry was and what he could easily do to Eton if he was pushed far enough.
"What?" said Harry snapping out of his daze, "Oh no, she was actually quite good." His demure seemed to calm a bit just at the mention of Hermione.
Harry began changing in record time as William continued to give him an odd look. Something had gotten to Harry and he wanted to know what it was. He'd have to wait until later though because without another word, Harry grabbed his broom and rushed through the tunnel leading out on to the field.
William wanted to know now more than ever what was bothering Harry, but it would have to wait until after practice. He had a growing suspicion however that it had to do with Eton; especially considering Harry's glares in his direction were much more frequent and volatile that usual.
~*~
"You call that a save?!" demanded Harry as he sailed over to Lasky from his normal position overlooking the field in search of the snitch. Rather than simply overseeing the practices as was the custom, Harry had taken it upon himself to be a rather demanding dictator over today's practice.
"Bug off Harry! I don't stop the quaffle every time! And you know Barshop's a good chaser!" yelled Lasky back at him. It wasn't the first time that Harry had yelled at him today.
Harry seemed to have it out for everyone that day at practice. Normally, he was the best captain anyone could ask for. But now, it wasn't just William who could tell that something was bothering Harry.
Harry's tirade continued for about an hour before he seemingly just lost the will to continue and let the team continue practicing without his command. He proceeded to lazily scanning the skies for sight of the snitch, not giving the rest of them team much of a second look. The team seemed rather relieved that he'd given it up, but now, he had five more people wondering what was up with him.
While Harry was scanning for the snitch, which must have taken a permanent vacation because he'd never once missed it, Harry spotted a short man in very fancy looking dress robes and a tall wizard's hat standing patiently near the side of the fence.
"Okay, practice is over!" yelled Harry at his teammates around him. They stopped playing and turned their attention to Harry who had begun gliding down toward the corner of the field. It was then that they all noticed the oddly placed man as well and began following Harry.
"Hello, can I help you?" asked Harry as he landed in front of him and got off his broom and proceeded to extend his hand to properly greet the man. He took it and shook Harry's hand back as the rest of Harry's teammates landed behind him to listen in.
"My name is Sonic DeLange," replied the man as he shook Harry's hand. He appeared to be in his late forties and carried himself very professionally. "I'm here, Mr. Potter, representing the England National Team executive board."
Harry's eyes widened a bit at this comment, especially since it was directed at him. With all of the recent stress he'd nearly forgotten it was selection time for the National Team. Under normal circumstances it would have been the first thing on his mind.
"It's my great pleasure to inform you that you have been selected this year to represent England in it's race for the Quidditch Cup as the team's seeker . . . and Captain."
A goofy grin began to cross Harry's face and he began to phase out his surroundings. Even though he had a feeling this announcement would be coming any day now, it made all his plaguing thoughts of Hermione vanish.
"Well done, Harry!" "Yes, Congratulations mate!" Yells of encouragement coming from his teammates behind him and a few arms extending to shake his shoulders snapped Harry out of his daze.
"Thanks you Mr. DeLange. I gladly accept," he smiled brightly as his teammates continued to pat his back. It was a testament to his normal character that his teammates would support him so well after his outburst of behavior during the practice.
"Yes, I'd also like to speak to a Mr. Augustus Barshop?" he stepped to the side so that he could see around Harry into the mass of people behind him. They stopped shaking Harry and quieted down as Augustus stepped out from the group.
"That's me," he said in a rather casual tone.
"Mr. Barshop, the executive board would also be pleased if you would join us as a Chaser for England's National Team," Mr. DeLange smiled. He seemed to enjoy his post as liaison with the professional teams.
"I'd love to take you up on that," grinned Augustus as his teammates turned to congratulate him.
"Well I think that's it . . ." he turned as if to leave. The entire team noticed it would be the first time since his two consecutive starts that Lasky was not asked back as keeper. "Oh wait, I'm sorry, I have one more from the Cannons." He stopped and turned to the team. Lasky looked ready to step out. "Can a please see a Mr. William Duval?"
There was a small gasp from the team as William stepped from the back of the group to the front. "I'm him," said William in a meek voice, half expecting to be asked on as laundry service.
"Mr. Duval! We have been very pleased to watch your improvement on the team this year! I don't know if you're aware of it, but you have the most saves of any beater in the league while stopping opposing chasers who have the quaffle. The executive board has asked me to invite you to play for England this off-season."
William looked as if he couldn't speak. His mouth began moving, but no words came out. He looked over to Harry is desperation.
"He accepts," said Harry as William began furiously nodding his head in agreement with Harry.
"Very well Mr. Potter," he said turning his attention to Harry again. "I expect you're familiar with running National Team practices. Your first one is in precisely one week after the regular Quidditch season has ended. Here is the practice schedule," he said handing Harry a piece of parchment, "and this is your team roster," he handed Harry another parchment. "Good day gentlemen, Miss," he nodded at Kindelle as he turned and began walking away to the stadium's Apparation point.
"Sorry Brighton," a few teammates attempted to console Lasky.
"It's okay mates. I can't stay young forever," mumbled Lasky.
The majority of the attention, however, had been turned to William. With the large amount of success that Chudley had been seeing this season, they'd all failed to notice the numbers that William had been putting up all year. They were a good team in that sense however, never looking at players individually, but always seeing it as a team effort.
"Hey, Harry!" said William finally breaking free from his teammates and walking over to Harry who had been reading over his team's practice schedule.
"Will! Congratulations!" yelled Harry giving his friend a high five. "There's no one I'd rather play with out there that you," he said genuinely. The recent announcements seemed to have lifted him out of the bad temper he'd been in.
"Thanks mate," he beamed. "So who else is on the team?" William leaned over so he could peer at the parchment Harry was reading. This seemed to interest the rest of the Cannons as they all leaned in to hear what Harry had to say.
"Oh, I hadn't looked yet. I was just going over our practice schedule. It looks pretty intense. Well, let me see . . . Okay. I'm the Seeker. We've got Barshop here, and Lukens and James from Wimbourne as our Chasers."
"They're bloody good," smiled Barshop stepping up to hear the rest of his teammates as well.
"Our beaters are William here," he smiled giving a good shake to his friend's shoulder, "and Wiggins from Puddlemere United. And our keeper is," Harry stopped, he couldn't help the large smile forming over his face even though he was a bit disappointed that Lasky hadn't made it, "Wood from Puddlemere!"
"Wood, he any good?" said Barshop leaning over Harry to glance at the list. He didn't want just anyone taking his spot.
"He's great," said Harry still beaming. "Played with him back at Hogwart's. Best Captain I ever worked with."
~*~
"HARRY!" a loud voice blasted around the room as he pressed the flashing light on his answering machine to receive his messages. He'd escaped as quickly as he could after the end of practice. Using the National Team bids as a distraction, he slipped out unnoticed. He didn't want to talk about last night and he knew if he'd stayed any longer, the questions would start to fly once the excitement had died down.
"I JUST HEARD IN THE OFFICE THAT YOU MADE CAPTAIN AGAIN! CONGRATULATIONS MATE!" Ron still hadn't learned how to properly use an answering machine. "ANYWAY, LET ME KNOW LATER HOW THINGS WENT WITH HERMIONE LAST NIGHT! BYE!"
Harry frowned as the message clicked off. He just gotten away from it from Will, and now he came home to it again. Just when he had just finally gotten her off of his mind by thinking about playing for England there she was again.
"Hey Harry it's me," the new, softer voice came over the answering machine after a beep signaling the end of Ron's message.
Harry, while still glad as always to hear her voice, nearly yelled out loud at his frustration. Not matter what, he just couldn't escape her.
"I just wanted to congratulate you. I heard from Timothy that you made the team. He seemed a bit upset that you and William made it and he didn't, but that's all right. Between you and me, I think you're the best player in the world."
Harry couldn't help but feel his heart swell at the sound of her voice and the kind things she had to say about him. He imagined though that anything she had to say would sound good to his ears.
"I imagine that you must be too busy now to spend time with me . . . to practice flying I mean," her voice sounded a bit strangled at the end like she wasn't sure what she was saying. Harry paused for a moment, but let it go as his heart dropped. He didn't want her to ever think that he was too busy. He could never be too busy for her.
"I suppose I won't be hearing from you for awhile then. But, Ron promised he'd get me tickets; and I'll be at every single one of your games. I always am . . ."
Harry swore his heart began to beat faster. Crazy thoughts of her coming just to watch him play instead of Eton ran through his head. He knew it would never be the case, but for some reason, he liked that idea a lot.
"See you then," her soft voiced trailed off. The harsh beep of the machine snapped Harry out of his daydreaming. He suddenly wanted to call Hermione.
"No!" yelled Harry at himself. It seemed like his brain had finally taken control over his body. "This is Hermione. You don't want to think any of those thoughts! You are just angry that she's dating such a prat!" He stomped around the room as he yelled out loud to himself. With a large burst of frustration, he threw his broom that he'd still been holding onto to the floor and stomped upstairs to shower.
The shower did nothing to calm his nerves. It was driving Harry crazy that he couldn't put his finger on why it upset him so much that Eton was with Hermione. He wanted to be the one protecting her. Not some git who is probably only keeping her around for her . . . for her f-a-m-e! It finally hit him. Eton must be using Hermione's name to boost his own. It a well-known fact that Hermione is the highest paid witch in all of England. Not to mention, she's very famous on her own for helping with the demise of Voldemort, and also, for her top selling book series detailing their years at Hogwart's. The only reason Eton probably ever gets stopped on the streets is because someone wanted to talk to Hermione who was with him. Harry just gaped as the realization came upon him. He'd been trying to figure out for so long why he hated Eton so much. This had to be the reason. Now, all he had to do was convince Hermione of it too.