Author's Note: Hello all. Too much work and too little time have made this chapter late.
Oh, and my cool cell phone broke, the one I mentioned in the prior author's note. I dropped it one to many times. It's still under warranty, so hopefully I can get it replaced.
I've rarely written with a beta, as the one I used before seems to have disappeared. Although I think I do okay without one, and can usually blame errors on the informality of hearing someone's thoughts, I think this chapter needs one. Not that there are grammar or spelling mistakes (though there might be), but the flow needs work.
So, with that wonderful endorsement, enjoy!
Chapter Two
So, ever since that day in the hospital wing - or as I like to call it, the day life decided to kick me in the ass again - things haven't been so good for Harry Potter. On the plus side, this was supposed to be the best time of my life: for once, I didn't have the cloud of death looming over my head raining droplets of guilt and despair all over me, nor was I carrying the hopes and dreams of the wizarding world on my shoulders like some wizarding version of Atlas, albeit with less muscles. But on the minus side, I had more attention then ever before, almost like an animal in a zoo, and, of course, there was the little matter of Hermione ripping my heart from my chest and smashing it on the heel of her indifference. Not to mention I seem to be making a lot more analogies when I get depressed, which can be as annoying as hearing disembodied voices that you can't place, or like-
Anyway. The point is, ever since my feelings for Hermione were rejected, life has been less-than-stellar. Things have been rather awkward between Hermione and me, though truth be told, I've seen less and less of her lately. I'm not sure if it's because she feels uncomfortable around me, or if it's because with Voldemort gone, she can finally do all the extra-curricular activities she's always dreamed - Hermione's joined the Arithmancy club, started up SPEW again, tutors the younger kids, works after hours with Professor McGonagall, and, of course, is Head Girl. All the while revising for NEWTs, which thankfully are still half-a-year away. Just thinking about it makes me want to take a nap. I was, however doing my best to move on with my life. I'm a hero, for God's sake, and it would not behoove me to act like some love-struck puppy chasing after some girl who wants nothing to do with me. I had to be strong…tough. I still had my dignity!
So it was with great dignity that I sat with Ron and Luna at the Three Broomsticks on the first Hogsmeade weekend. We were in the back, sheltered somewhat from prying eyes so I could be dignified while I drank myself silly on firewhiskey, but again, it was in a very dignified manner. I had just learned earlier in the day that Hermione was going to Hogsmeade with that little bugger Terry "Oooh, you're so smart Hermione, you should be in Ravenclaw" Boot.
I had succeeded fairly well in dealing with my feelings for Hermione up to that point. Again, living with the Dursleys had taught me to hide my feelings very well; I'm sure I'd make a terrific poker player. But after I heard that Hermione was going with Boot, I figured I could spend the day weeping manly tears as I cuddled in my bed, but Ron and Luna would have none of that. So, since they asked for it, after all, I decided to subject them to my opinions of Terry "Oh Hermione, that's such an advanced spell" Boot and how'd I like to re-arrange his facial features - literally, of course, since I knew a spell that could do that.
Ron and Luna were troopers though; I'm sure this wasn't at all how they'd imagined the day would go. They did a good job in keeping me from blowing up the place, though they weren't quite as clever as they thought they were. When Hermione and Boot entered the Three Broomsticks, Ron and Luna tried to shield them from me. But I saw them anyways. Watched as they laughed and smiled together. I briefly considered sending over a snake to give Terry a little love bite, but I reconsidered when I realized that I just as likely infest the place with hundreds of snakes. So, after Ron helped me back to the Tower (which, by the way, is a lot harder to get to when you're slightly drunk), I fell asleep and dreamt happy dreams of lions eating eagles.
*******
The next morning, I somehow managed to wake-up and get to breakfast. Of course, Neville tripping over his trunk and knocking down the curtains helped a bit. I pushed my way through the throngs of fans that, though dwindling, still congregate around the entrance of the Great Hall and found my seat next to Ron and opposite Hermione.
"Rough night Harry?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. Even though she didn't love me, she still cared for me. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. At first, I still wanted to be friends; Hermione means so much to me, I couldn't imagine life without her. But after last night, I wasn't so sure. If being her friend means I have to sit by and watch her go out on dates, and someday watch her get married to some other guy, well…I'm not sure if I have enough money to get drunk that many times. I mumbled back a response and reached for the pitcher of juice. For whatever reason, the eggs looked utterly unappetizing.
Hermione frowned, but before she could say anything her roommates surrounded her. "So, how'd it go?" Lavender asked excitedly.
Hermione looked uncomfortable, and at that point I focused on my juice.
"How'd what go?" Hermione asked.
"You know, the date with Terry." This was Pavarti speaking.
"It wasn't date," Hermione said, and I felt a flicker of hope.
"Whatever," Lavender said dismissively. "So? How'd it go?"
"Um, fine?" I could imagine Hermione giving me quick, uncomfortable looks.
"Hmmph," Pavarti said. "I saw you two at the Broomsticks. You seemed like you were having more than just a `fine' time."
At this point, I very much disliked Pavarti.
"Yeah, and did I see you two holding hands at one point?"
Lavender I didn't like so much either.
Though Hermione denied the hand-holding incident. They continued to talk about yesterday. For some reason, I just couldn't help but just sit there and listen. It was a little like watching an accident happening - I couldn't turn away. Except in this case, it was my own accident that was happening, and I just sat there watching the train getting closer and closer, wondering if it would just knock me to the side or crush me underneath its wheels.
Eventually the bell rang, mercifully cutting the conversation short. "Are you guys coming?" Hermione asked Ron and me when neither of us had made a move to leave.
I looked up at her and managed a smile. "Yeah, be just a second."
Ron nodded. "You go on ahead." After Hermione left, Ron put a hand on my shoulder. "It'll be okay Harry. You'll see, it'll be okay in the end."
I nodded morosely and gathered my books. "Yeah, I know." As I followed him out, though, I couldn't help but be heartened by the fact that throughout the conversation, Hermione never referred to yesterday as a `date.'
******
As was the trend in my life, any time I felt good about something, it was bound to be ruined within a month. In this case, it was even shorter. It was our second Quidditch match of season, Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. We were the heavy favorites, since almost all of the Ravenclaw starters from last year had graduated. A lot of first-timers were out on the field, like Anthony and Mandy as chasers, and Boot as seeker.
I had a number of options in how I could treat this match. On the one hand, I could completely and utterly humiliate Boot, showing him how real seekers play the game. On the other hand, given that their team is weak overall, I could end the thing quickly and save them some embarrassment.
I ended up going for something in-between. Although the Quidditch Cup generally goes to the team with the best win-loss record, total points come into play when there are ties. So, it was smart to rack up a few points before winning the match.
So, in reality, I was thinking about the team when I out-flew and out-maneuvered Boot in the skies. In all honesty, humiliating him just was a small a fraction of the reason, say about 75%. When we had built up a 300 to 30 lead, I ended the misery and caught the Snitch.
The usual happy teammates and housemates surrounded me when I landed. But someone was missing - Hermione. She'd always been one of the first to congratulate me after a win, or comfort me after the rare loss, but she was nowhere to be found. Even after our win over Slytherin, when things were really awkward, she was still there to give me a friendly pat on the shoulder. I scanned the crowd for the familiar bushy hair until I finally spotted her.
She was with Boot. They were talking in low tones, Hermione clearly consoling him after the loss. It was then that I knew I had no chance.
I knew I should take the high road and be happy for her. She found someone who shared her interests and made her happy. Wasn't that the important thing? Of course I wanted her to be happy - but why couldn't she find happiness as a 90-year spinster virgin who never goes out on dates? Was that too much to ask for?
Apparently it was.
******
Fortunately I had something to keep me occupied soon after: Quidditch scouting had arrived. Scouts from all the professional teams gathered at Hogwarts while the seventh years showed what we could do. The scouts came in waves and took real, hard looks at everyone; even the sixth years were invited so the scouts could get an idea for next year.
The one interesting thing about the `auditions' is that we all had to use the same broom. Apparently, the scouts wanted to make sure that the talent was on display, not broom technology, so we were all using Cleansweeps. For someone like Ron, who only used Cleansweeps, it was no problem. But for me, it sometimes felt as if I were flying in slow motion. I still feel that I performed well, flying better than any other student, but it was frustrating at times. For weeks before the try-outs, I flew the Cleansweep in order to get used to the differences. And, of course, during try-outs I never touched the Firebolt, which was safely locked away in my trunk. I missed the ability zoom around in the skies, that feeling of freedom. The feeling was still there with the Cleansweep, but it was muted somehow. And with everything that's been going on with Hermione, I itched to get back on the Firebolt.
My tryouts ended about two weeks early. No one had requested a second look at me, and while normally this would be a bad thing, I knew I was in good shape. First of all, I had caught the Snitch each time, and second of all, I knew my fame would at the very least get me a seat on the bench; For years my fame had been a bother, it's about time I used it to my advantage, right? I waited for Ron until try-outs were over, and then we excitedly went up to our room.
"What're you so happy about?" Seamus asked when we got in. "Did you get picked by a team already?"
I shook my head. "Teams can't make formal offers until the spring."
"Then what's all the fuss about?" Dean asked.
"My try-outs are over, which means I can fly my Firebolt again!" I said happily, shooting Ron a look of triumph.
Neville just shook his head, obviously not appreciating what it feels like to be shackled to the ground when all I wanted to do was soar. I started to rummage though my trunk.
"Are you going to fly now?"
"No," I said, "but I want to take her out and make sure she's ready."
Ron went to get his broom servicing kit while I continued to go though my trunk. Strangely enough, I couldn't find it. I looked again. And then again. And then I overturned my trunk, my things spilling out everywhere.
"Harry!" Ron said, alarmed. "What are you doing?"
"My broom's gone! Someone took my broom!"
"What?!" Ron came over and sifted through the pile. When he finished, I gave him a look. "Hey!" he said, raising his hands in defense. "It wasn't me, I swear!"
"Well, it was someone who has access to this room." I said, growing angry and turning my attention to my three other roommates. Once they realized what I was implying, and seeing the dangerous look on my face, they all paled considerably, even Dean, which was a rather impressive feat.
"It wasn't me!"
"I didn't do it!"
"I don't even like flying!"
I gazed at them intently until I was satisfied that they were telling the truth - leglimency does have its advantages. "All right," I said, "I believe you."
All four of them sighed in relief, but the fact remained: my beloved Firebolt, my first and only present from Sirius, was missing.
*******
A/N: Nothing more to see here, move along. But don't forget to review before you do.
Okay, I lied; maybe just a bit more. So, is it just me, or does it seems as if the enthusiasm over HP fanfic seems to be dying down a bit? I know that I personally read less these days. I think I'm just less interested in "standard" fluff, where H/Hr go through the standard "but it's Harry or Hermione! I can't have these feelings for Harry or Hermione! She or he is my best friend!" and then one of them trips on a rug, the other catches them, and they kiss. I'm also less interested in angst, because I don't like watching them suffer too much, and I've read one to many stories where Harry goes into some suicidal depression after Sirius died (which I don't buy, by the way). And finally, I think I'm too lazy to read novel-length fics anymore.
Or maybe I've just read too many fanfics that all the plots seem to run together, and now I need a really different plot to get me interested?
Either way, I'm not too worried, since I'm guessing that by the summer, they'll be a new reason to be excited about HP fanfic.
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