Unofficial Portkey Archive

Wherein Harry justifies Hermione's high opinion of him, the pair has a chat with Fleur, deal with pre-game hijinks, Harry makes a deal with Ron, Gryffindor swamps Slytherin, Harry is injured in an unfortunate post-game incident, and Hermione tries to make him feel better.

Thanks once again to betas Mark Gardiner, Shane, and Mathiasgranger.

We Are The Champions, Queen: Lyrics © 1977, F. Mercury; Why Is There Air? © 1964, W Cosby

Chapter 59 - Quidditch Is Not A Cure-All

He could not keep it up much longer - due to griffin Animagus training, if nothing else - but for now, Harry still maintained the façade of being angry with Professor McGonagall. Despite her tacit admission of error by restoring the entire House's privileges, she had not apologised personally to him or (as far as he knew) to Hermione for entertaining the suspicion that he, Harry, had tried to drug her, Hermione, into having sex.

The very idea still grated.

It was lunchtime. Harry occupied his usual spot in the middle of the Gryffindor table, fresh from a mostly free morning spent in the Room of Requirement practising rather strenuously for the afternoon's double period DADA. Hermione sat next to him, meaning that Ron was at the Ravenclaw table with Cho.

Hermione was finishing a round of cheese and pickle sandwiches, while Harry, having polished off a helping of cold meat and potato pie, reloaded with pineapple-topped honey-glazed gammon steak.

Professor McGonagall presided at the high table.

Harry was asking Dean Thomas to pass the pepper pot when he noticed his Head of House summon Colin Creevey. During their brief conversation Colin received some sort of envelope.

Harry had gone back to consuming the last couple of slices of his glazed ham, when he felt Colin tap him on the shoulder. "Got some post for you," the boy informed him.

"Okay," Harry muttered absently as he took the envelope.

"Oh, and by the way, we received word from China the other day," Colin whispered in Harry's ear. "We'll beat the deadline we set for ourselves. First deliveries start sometime just after Christmas - we thought you'd want us to begin with the Order and the Aurors, so we are."

"That's great, Colin," Harry told the boy. "Who knows where this all might lead?"

"Anyway, since you staked us, we thought you should know," Colin finished as he departed.

"Congratulations, Colin," Harry called after him. "And tell Dennis the same."

Harry returned his attention, such as it was, to the envelope he had just received. It was quite different from the usual post - it had not been carried by owl, or any other bird.

The letter had stamps on it.

"What the hell?" Harry muttered as he examined the letter more closely. The address started out typewritten, to him care of "Mrs. A. Figg," but that bit had been crossed out. Underneath it somebody (maybe Mrs. Figg) had handwritten "H.S.o.W&W" and beneath that "London" with some postcode that he did not recognise - "SW1A 9 3/4AA."

Harry showed it to Hermione, who had already started looking over his shoulder. "What do you make of…?"

Hermione interrupted immediately. "When did you start getting post through the Mah Moo Mee?"

At least he thought that was what she said.

"Pardon?"

Hermione broke it down for him. "That postcode … it's the number for the Magical-Muggle Mail Exchange, or MaMuME for short. That's how I've exchanged letters with my parents since I started here. I wonder who'd be writing to you through Muggle means…?"

"Well let's find out," Harry replied as he ripped the letter open. "Umm … it's from Dudley…."

In five plus years at Hogwarts, Harry's communication with the Dursleys had been virtually nonexistent - and what little mail came from them, he had always received pre-opened.

But now that changed. Although Uncle Vernon had not been seriously injured in the recent Death Eater attack (no other casualties had mentioned, either), a large portion of the building that housed the Grunnings executive offices had been destroyed. The Obliviators had done their usual tidy job and modified the memories of every witness to the attack. The damage was attributed to their reliable standby, a "gas explosion."

Only Dudley did not believe it. In a very roundabout way Dudley let Harry know that he suspected Death Eaters.

"Your cousin's rather cleverer than I would have thought," Hermione commented upon reading the letter, "judging from what little I've seen, anyway."

"Dudley's not dumb," Harry responded.

"Oh, come on," Hermione rolled her eyes. "He wants to be a boxer for heaven's sake."

"Granted, boxing isn't exactly a career you'd choose - or me," Harry conceded, "but even if he's a few bricks shy of a load, he deserves better than to be thrown to the Deaters once I turn seventeen. And he knows something's going to happen…. Look in his letter. He says he's `concerned about next July.' He knows something's up."

"Well, what is going to happen?" Hermione asked earnestly. "You've told me some sort of blood protection kept you safe from Voldemort whilst you were with your relatives. But when you come of age, you're on your own…. Is anyone sparing a thought for the others…?"

"Dunno. Dudley's okay, though," Harry commented listlessly. "I'll write him back. Tell him he's right. The Deaters can have the other two."

"You don't really mean that, do you, Harry?" Hermione asked in that hushed voice she used when trying to cajole Harry into doing the right thing. "I mean, you've never thrown anyone to the wolves. It's not how you are…."

"That fat bastard beat me whenever he could. Humiliated me…. And he had the nerve to try sucking up when he found out that I wasn't the penniless little brat he thought," Harry muttered. "And for all those years, she let him - when I was her sister's son…."

"But … but Dudley lives with them," Hermione reminded him. "You can't very well help him without helping his parents."

Harry paused. He sat there staring into space. Hermione let him be.

He was making up his mind, and she knew it. When push really came to shove, he rarely disappointed her. That was why, for one thing, she was wearing his ring on her left hand.

He did not disappoint this time either.

"All right," Harry grumbled as he shook his head. "I'll talk to Dumbledore about it. I must be daft…."

"You're not daft," Hermione said with an understated smile on her face. "You're being yourself. You really do try to save everyone you can."

* * * *

Hermione thought it fortunate indeed that hers and Harry's Arithmancy classes were held in adjacent classrooms. As a practical matter Professor Vector was able to teach both classes - her N.E.W.T-level Analytic Arithmancy & Numerology seminar and his non-N.E.W.T. Arithmancy for Poets elective - simultaneously by passing back and forth through the two classrooms' shared internal doorway.

It was better than Binns going through the wall.

For now, though, contiguity was a good thing because she could keep an eye on Harry. They had an appointment during the free period after class, and Hermione was determined to ensure that Harry kept it.

They would finally talk to Fleur about her mysterious off-hand comments about sex affecting magic - that the act could amplify at least certain spells. However much Fleur's mere existence often sufficed to make Hermione feel inadequate in such matters, she had nevertheless agitated for this meeting.

She did for one simple reason. Hermione was sick and tired of having to hold back during sex - to time things so they never climaxed together. If some new sort of magic had to be mastered, then by Merlin she was the woman to master it.

For his part Harry, would have been plenty chuffed simply to sneak out and skive off the whole thing. He did not want to talk to Fleur about sex….

Hence the value - to Hermione - of the adjacent classrooms. Harry would find it very difficult to escape.

More like impossible.

Thus they were soon off to meet the visiting Charms intern in her tiny hole in the wall that passed for an office.

Harry remembered vividly what transpired his last time there. With Hermione present, at least that would not happen again.

At Hermione's insistence, Harry knocked.

"Entrez, s'il vous plaît."

At Harry's insistence, Hermione entered first.

Fleur was casually dressed, or at least as "casual" as the term could ever be applied to the quarter-Veela's wardrobe. She had on her old sky blue Beauxbatons robes. Hermione acidly noticed that, whilst the French witch had "filled out some," she seemed not to have altered her robes.

`If she thinks this could ever become a threesome,' Hermione told herself, `she's got another think coming,'

`What was that?' Harry Legilimenced back, sounding startled.

Hermione had intended that comment to be private. But Legilimenced communication had become entirely too second-nature.

`Nothing,' she thought back to Harry. Then, with a broader smile than the circumstances warranted, she quickly and precisely said to Fleur, "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us today. Given our relationship, thought it best to pursue the comments you've made about how sexual activity enhances magic."

There … she made the inquiry sound academic. In that way, she had gotten it out without embarrassing herself - much.

"Oh, really?" Fleur responded suspiciously, "and just what would zose `ave been?"

Harry responded. "Umm … when we … that is, you and I … last spoke right here in your office. Don't you remember? And then at Slughorn's party…."

"I'm not sure zat I know what you're speaking of," she said hesitantly. "Zeengs n'est what zey once were."

Hermione thought she knew the reason for Fleur's reluctance. "Fleur, I know that everything involving … umm … well, especially now that everything between Beauxbatons and Hogwarts is being watched more … carefully … after what happened at the end of the ball. But we're not here to trap you or anything like that. Those same people … you must know, accused Harry of trying to drug me. We're not party to any inquest, official or not. We want to know what you meant because, well, we've been having problems…."

"Zen you are not `ere trying to send me back to France?" Fleur asked, seeming marginally friendlier. "Zee zuspeesion eez eentense, now zat `Arry eez not zee scapegoat … eespecially about zee Lust Powder. `Arry, you know zat I weesh to `elp you, zo I weel do my best to answer your questions."

She looked at Harry with a tragic expression. Harry started feeling warm, like before, except this time it had nothing to do with her Veela powers. "Umm … thanks, Fleur…."

"Actually, they're as much if not more my questions," Hermione interjected rather stiffly.

"Oui, and zey would be, would zey not?" Fleur responded to the girl whom she now accepted - grudgingly, but genuinely - as having won Harry's heart. "Don't worry `Ermione, you `ave nozzing to fear from moi. More zan anyzeeng, I weesh to see zee Dark Lord defeated. I `ave concluded some time ago zat `Arry ees key to zees. You are what `e wants, pas moi. I cannot truzfully deny zat I am eentrested in `Arry as a man, but I weel never act on zat as long as you two are togezzer. You can trust moi on zat, `Ermione."

Hermione had not expected Fleur - or any woman, for that matter - to be so frank about … well, about Harry. She thus had a somewhat unexpected choice. She made it quickly and decisively.

"I trust you, Fleur," she declared. "So what can you tell us about sexual amplification of magic? I think that's what you were talking about…."

Fleur had a ready answer. "Magic and sex, well zey go togezzer and yet zey do not. Using magic during sex happens all zee time, but zee results are … unpredictable because of zee powerful emotions. For example … and zee examples are many … magic during sex leads to excess. Such as weeshing for zee rose petals and zen sweeming in zem - or weeshing for mirrors and `aving zee entire room Transfigured. Or zere was one particularly unfortunate example I remember weez someone who weeshed for zee romantic candlelight…."

Both Harry and Hermione winced at the thought. Harry spoke first. "Hermione, is that what happened with you that time - what with the mirrors and all…?"

Hermione's face started flushing immediately. She had not intended to disclose details of that nature. She had wanted this conversation to focus more on amplification and on solving the major problem they had with synchronicity.

"No, Harry," she finally mustered a response. "That was before we really got started, remember? You wanted to see me, so I conjured all those mirrors intentionally."

"Well … that tout sounds razzer interesent, but not somezeeng you'd need to talk to moi about," Fleur observed with an ever so slight touch of sarcasm in her voice.

With effort Hermione kept from rolling her eyes. "Actually, I'm more interested in the extent to which … er … lovemaking can amplify lovers' magic if they try to do something together…."

Now Fleur was intrigued. "You mean while in zee act itself?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed.

"Yes … eet `appens," Fleur told them. "Eet can be très … extremely powerful, but also extremely erratic. People `ave died because of zees…."

"What?" Harry blurted, the surprise evident in his voice

"Oh, dear!" Hermione exclaimed, sounding even more shocked. "What did we almost do to ourselves?"

"Non, non," Fleur spoke in calming tones, "not like zat. Eet ees usually directed outwards - I `ave never `erd of any couple keeling each ozzer. Zee problems, zey `ave arisen mostly when lovers `ave been surprised - usually een eencreemeenating seetuations…. A French Minister of Magic died zat way a leetle more zan a `undred years ago."

"Please explain, then, because this could be serious," Hermione requested, "Harry and I…."

"I don't want to do anything that would hurt Hermione," Harry broke in. "I'd sooner give up … er … sex altogether…."

"Non, non, non," Fleur reverted to her calming voice. "Zee Minister Laignel, `ees demise was teepical. `E suspected `ees wife of being unfaizful. Unfortunately, `e was correct. `E caught zem een zee act. Boz zee wife and `er lover shot Stunners at `eem while steell coupling. Zey `eet zee minister weez such force zat `e died instantly."

"That's terrible," Hermione commented.

"Yes, zey were to be put on trial for zeir lives," Fleur continued, "but an eenspection of zeir wands confirmed zat zere story about only using Stunners was true. Zee ceercumstances confirmed what `ad `appened. Eet was not somezeeng zat zee Ministry wanted to be public, so zere was an agreed upon reduced sentence of ten years each een zee Bastille. So you see…."

"But I thought the Bastille was destroyed more than two hundred years ago," Hermione interrupted.

"Well, zee Muggles zeenk so," Fleur answered, "and I suppose you `aven't `ad French `Eestory of Magic. We - zee French wizard community - took advantage of zee confusion to make zee Bastille unplottable. We needed a better preeson ourselves."

"Umm … actually, we're also interested in … er … what happens when we both … well, you know…. We've had problems when we've each tried hard to, well; get the other to … umm … that, at the same time." When he finished, Harry wondered whether Fleur would even be able to understand what he had asked.

She had.

"You are no longer talking about seenergy zen, but `armony," Fleur replied directly.

"What's … what about synergy?" Harry asked. "You mean like when two times two equals more than four?"

"Yes," Hermione broke in to answer Harry's question. "Sometimes a whole lot more than four. But what do you mean by harmony?" she asked Fleur.

"You're right about zee seenergy," Fleur began explaining. "Zat ees zee two lovers casting zee same spell at zee same time and doing eet weez more power zan eizzer of zem could muster apart. `Armony ees somewhat deefferent. I assume what you mean ees trying to pleasure `er to climax while she ees doing zee same to you?"

Fleur's question elicited agreement from both of them.

"Yes, exactly."

"Umm … yeah."

"Zat ees `armony, zen," Fleur continued, "when zee both of you are doing related but not identical zeengs. Depending upon zee power of zee couple and zee strengz and nature of zere feelings for each ozzer, zee spontaneous magic zat zee `armonious actions produces can be substantial. Ees zees what's brought you here?"

"That's exactly it," Harry answered quickly. "Does this spontaneous magic show up as pink?"

Hermione did not respond immediately. Rather, she sat there chewing reflexively on her lower lip and looking thoughtful. Fleur noticed.

"`Ermione?" the French witch prompted.

"Yes, that … and something else, too," Harry's fiancée finally responded.

"Zee most common `armonic colour ees red, wheech eendicates lust," Fleur answered. "Peenk ees zee colour for love razzer zan lust - alzough zey can combine een almost any shade."

Since Fleur's information was proving quite useful, Hermione got to the point. "We … well we had something of an accident with it once … er … in the situation Harry described earlier…. Since then we've tried to avoid, well, simultaneous climaxes, actually."

Fleur remembered something odd she had seen not too long before. "Accident, you say…. Zat ees unusual. Zee `armony, eet ees usually leetle more zan an annoyance at worst - and a useful eendicator of true feelings at best. I find eet `ard to believe zat somezeeng like zat could have scared eezzer of you. What `appened?"

Both of them started speaking at once.

"Well, it was my first time, and I really wanted…."

"I was on top and to block out … well that was because…."

"Sorry, after you…."

"No, why don't you tell it…?"

Finally, Harry seemed the less embarrassed of the two, so he explained what happened. "Hermione was awesome. I could see and feel her. I was holding back as much as I could, for her. There was this pink glow, and it got brighter and brighter. I ignored it … better things to do. I guess we both did. Then, I couldn't hold myself any longer, and neither could she. Almost immediately, there was this loud crash. Hermione's Mirror Charm … we told you about that … failed somehow. The pink glow went away almost immediately. We didn't realise it until a little later, because … well, you know, I'm sure. But whatever we'd done not only wrecked her charm, but blew out a window and a goblin-charmed grating that protected it."

Fleur seemed almost awed by the description. "Comment…? Oh, my! You - you broke zee charm, and zee magic, eet was directed een … een a parteecular direction?"

"Yes," confirmed Hermione, who had been silent throughout Harry's description. "I could see it better, I think. The pink glow seemed to swirl, probably because it was reflecting off all the mirrors. It got brighter and more intense until finally - when Harry stopped trying to be all so noble about things - it broke through what must have been the weak point in the charm and shot out the window…. I'm very worried about it happening again, if only because it calls attention to us."

"You - you are très lucky," Fleur told the couple. "Weez zee `elp of zee mirrors, and zee power of your magic and feelings for each ozzer, I believe you managed to seenchronise zee magic of zee mutual peak…. You created what ees called zee `Armonic Convergence."

"Isn't that some sort of Muggle færie story?" Hermione asked.

"I know nozzing of zee Muggles, but een zee annals of wizard sexual practices, anyzeeng zat results in zee seenchronicity of zee spontaneous magic produced by `armoneeous love making ees called zee `Armonic Convergence."

"How can we keep it from happening again … at least when we don't want it too?" Harry asked.

Fleur thought a bit. "I zeenk eet was zee mirrors zat eemposed external convergence," she offered. "Unless you ultimately decide to meex your magic and seek eenternal convergence - somezeeng not to be tried unless married, avoidance of zee mirrors should keep eet from recurring."

Both Harry and Hermione sighed in relief. At least they would not have to keep taking turns - which was not nearly as romantic as doing everything together.

"Merci, Fleur," Harry said as he was ready to leave.

"`Ermione, you `ad somezeeng else you wanted to ask moi?" Fleur commented.

"Yes…. It's about, well…. Oh, bother, could I speak to you in private, Fleur?" she inquired.

"I'll just wait outside," Harry offered.

"That won't be necessary, Harry," Hermione told him. "Muffliato!"

Ordinarily she disapproved of that charm.

With his ears buzzing, Harry sat quietly as Hermione and Fleur discussed something that, transparently, Hermione had found distressing. As the two women spoke, Hermione's ears became almost blazingly pink, and the colour also infiltrated her cheeks.

The look on Fleur's face shifted from concern, to surprise, to intrigue, to sympathy - and to questioning, as she occasionally cast glances in his direction.

Hermione seemed unable to look at Harry at all.

Their private conversation must have lasted five minutes or more, through which Harry sat in increasingly uncomfortable silence.

As soon as Hermione ended the muffling spell, she told Harry. "I need to go. I'm sure I'll see you in a little while, Harry." With that she quickly left Fleur's office.

"Hermione! Wait, I…."

"Attends, `Arry. Wait." Fleur more or less demanded.

"There's something wrong with Hermione," Harry protested as he rose to follow his fiancée. "I have to see what…."

"She wants moi to talk to you first," Fleur told him. "I know exactly what `er problem ees - and eet eenvolves you."

"Me?"

"Oui … you," Fleur repeated. "Now, seet … please."

Harry sat back down.

Fleur spoke slowly. She was not above being somewhat embarrassed herself. "Zees ees about somezeeng zat `appens when `Ermione…. Well, when she … `as a strong first climax … she told moi zat `er nectar, she expels eet weez some force and quantity. Do you know what I mean, `Arry?"

"Umm … yeah," he replied. "But only the first time."

"Only once?" Fleur looked at him with surprise. "She said eet `appens weez some regularity…."

"No … er … I mean yes," Harry sputtered. "But she only does it the first time that she … well, you know…. She's right that it's happened a number of times. But why are we talking about this…?"

"`Ermione ees afraid zat you must zeenk eet's foul," Fleur told him.

"I've never said … or thought that," Harry protested. "I nearly…."

Harry stopped himself. There was no need to get into that level of detail.

He tried again. "Er … I had a bad reaction the first time, but that was only because I was surprised. Now that I'm ready for it, I rather like it, actually."

"You do?" Fleur responded. "Zat's très good. You need to tell `er zat, `Arry."

"Yes," Harry reiterated. "It lets me know that I've done my job. It gets me randier because I can … well, start thinking about letting myself go, too…."

"Well, she's afraid you theenk eet's deesgusting," Fleur revealed. "She says she's tried to stop eet, but can't."

"No way," Harry protested. "It's part of … well, her. And I love her … all of her."

Fleur sighed, and smiled at Harry. "I know you do, I can tell. But you need to tell `er what you just told me."

"I will," he said as he got up to leave. "And thanks, Fleur."

"You're quite welcome, `Arry," Fleur replied, as she began tidying up her desk. "And she ees très fortunate."

"So am I," Harry said as he departed. "And I intend to keep it that way."

* * * *

The morning of the long-awaited Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match dawned clear and cold - excellent Quidditch weather. The morning meal was predictable, since Ron made the selection - steaks for the entire team, cooked as rare as possible.

Muggle-born Hermione, the dentists' child, immediately informed Harry, "You know, this training concept is woefully out-of-date. Muggle lads prefer lighter, higher energy fare like pasta or chicken. It was all the rage at last summer's Olympics. Why not have beans on toast, at least?"

Harry was not about to scotch Ron's plans, in part to keep the co-captains' united front in the face of their first baptism of fire. But mainly, he just preferred his red meat over Hermione's alternatives.

"Nah, Hermione, this is good," he dismissed her idea. "It's what Oliver would do. We need the right mood as much as the right meal…." He turned towards the team's section of the House table.

"Honestly," Hermione muttered as he left, "it's a miracle any of you ever get off the ground…."

The Gryffindor table was awash in red and gold. The Slytherins were equally ensconced in their house's silver and green.

The team, as had become traditional, clustered together at the far end of the house table - farthest from the high staff table and closest to the main exit. Hermione knew of no basis for the tradition, but she rather suspected it was to provide a bit more cover for any pre-game pranks.

And mischief there was. Both teams charmed bits of parchment - folded up Ministry of Magic memo style - to carry rude messages to their opponents.

Ginny, who must have learned from her mum, even sent a crude Howler to Kevin Harper, the Fifth Year who had replaced Draco Malfoy (for his part, nowhere to be seen) as Seeker for the Slytherins.

Harper refused to touch it. The Howler exploded and showered the Slytherin team with bits of red confetti, whilst a loud screeching voice cast aspersions on their collective manhood.

The staff rather famously tolerated this aspect of inter-house rivalry, but Hagrid finally put a stop to the exchange of projectiles once someone flung a wet-start firework into the Gryffindor team's pitcher of pumpkin juice - thoroughly soaking everyone, and even singeing Ron's eyebrows.

Harry tried regrowing Ron's eyebrows rather inexpertly. As a result they ended with upward twists at the end that, in Hermione's opinion, resembled the tips of Salvador Dali's mustache.

Hermione, of course, could have restored everything flawlessly - but there was the small matter of her ongoing Cold War with Ron. To respect team unity, she had reluctantly agreed that Harry, as acting co-captain, should sit with Ron and the rest of the team. She, meanwhile, would sit further down the table, away from the team.

Hermione, however, had not counted on Ron inviting Cho to sit with the Gryffindor team.

She was not the only one furious about this. Ginny was also extremely aggravated. From her perch, Hermione even suspected Ron's sister of helping guide the Slytherin firework on its incoming trajectory. Her Howler, after all, had precipitated that attack.

Hermione was tempted to retaliate by moving to the Ravenclaw table. Luna was there - seated in relatively splendid isolation - sporting her Gryffindor lion hat. But Hermione stopped herself. Her action might be misinterpreted and be reported to the press as evidence of some sort of a breach between herself and Harry.

Something else was also at work.

Hermione joined Neville, looking sulky and rather determinedly eating by himself at the opposite end of the Gryffindor table.

"Hi, Neville," she greeted him tentatively as she slid into the seat across from him. Pushing her plate into position, she began filling it with kippers, toast with fine-cut orange marmalade, and a couple of poached eggs. "You okay?"

The answer to her question was obvious.

Neville barely looked at her whilst pushing bits of scrambled eggs about his plate through some dregs of Worcestershire sauce. Hermione was on the verge of asking Neville if he would rather be left alone, when he mumbled, "Not really."

"Not really what?" Hermione followed, as Neville's lengthy silence had caused an uncharacteristic loss of her train of thought.

Neville turned to her with a tragic look festooning his round face. "Not really okay," he reiterated. "The inevitable happened."

Even though unsure, Hermione sent a consoling glance Neville's way - based simply on his doleful tone of voice. "The inevitable what, Neville? Is everything … everyone all right at home?"

Neville hastened to clarify, letting Hermione know that none of his family had been killed or even badly hurt in the latest Death Eater attack. "It's just … just that Ginny broke up with me," he explained in that soft Lancastrian accent of his. "She said I was too boring…. I should have known it would never work…."

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Neville," Hermione commiserated.

"Don't feel sorry for me," Neville resisted. "Not like it was fault. It was … well, we never really recovered from my having to leave her alone for the ball. I couldn't help it, though. Gram needed me to help her cope right after the attack…."

"Just because it's not my fault doesn't mean I can't empathise," Hermione replied sympathetically. "You sound so much like Harry saying that. He seems to think that fault and sympa…."

She stopped abruptly, noticing that Neville's face had - equally rapidly - begun flushing red. "What's wrong now?" she asked instead.

"It's just…. Sometimes it would be so much easier if I could just let myself hate Harry," Neville sighed. Seeing Hermione's questioning expression, he continued. "Boring, am I? Well just who around here is the exact opposite of that? I dunno, Hermione. I'd be careful if I were you."

At that, Hermione turned her head toward the team end of the table. Ginny was, sure enough, seated next to Harry. She hardly looked threatening, since she was more or less ignoring him and, instead, staring at Cho with transparent anger. Cho, of course, was all over Ron - who seemed oblivious (willfully or otherwise), to Ginny's ire.

"I trust Harry," Hermione said forcefully.

After breakfast, Harry and Ron marched together over hoarfrost-flecked grass towards the Gryffindor team quarters. Ron was talkative, going over what he knew of the Slytherin team's strengths and weaknesses.

Mostly weaknesses.

"…Me and Moose, we got to know each other at Elsinore, you know," Ron rambled. "He's a spot on passer, especially to his left, but he's not really a scorer…."

"…Vaisey's the only real scoring threat they've got, he says, and I believe him…."

"…Urquhart … their captain … he's a prick. Only got tipped because he's been on the team since his second year…."

"…Bletchley's decent at Keeper, but he won't get much help…."

"…Malfoy's replacement, that Harper bloke, is pathetic, I'm told. You shouldn't have much trouble catching the Snitch…."

"…Especially since Park and Marlowe, their Beaters - the ones who replaced Crabbe and Goyle in our year - are supposed to be downright awful…."

"…It was bloody brilliant, what you did, getting everyone to fly the same brooms. We'll kick their arse now…."

Harry mostly listened and, when prompted, uttered monosyllabic grunts of agreement. Nothing significant happened stood until they were changing into their uniforms in their shared captain's office.

"Harry, could I ask a big favour of you?" Ron broached a new subject.

Harry already had second thoughts about agreeing to Ron's prior request.

"Probably, but it depends," he answered a little warily, as he pulled his house jumper over his head. "What do you want?"

Ron told him. "Well, if we do win, like we should, do you think you'd mind too much dressing out there with the rest of the team?"

"That's not a problem," Harry agreed readily, "but why?"

"Well … you see … Cho - she's promised me a wee bit of a reward if we win, and this is the most private place that's available. What do you say?"

"Ron, she plays for another House," Harry reminded him.

"I'll hide anything having to do with plays or strategy," Ron promised, hastily banishing some notes lying loose on the desk. "She's promised to sneak in here early, before the match is over."

"But you don't know when that'll be," Harry stated the obvious.

"That'll be when you catch the Snitch," Ron quipped. "Seriously, Cho'll handle it. She's motivated, after all." Jocularly, he nudged Harry in the shoulder and gave him an leering wink. "Know what I mean…?"

"You're running quite a risk," a rather put off Harry stated the obvious. He took a deep breath - here was a golden opportunity, maybe even an obligation. "Ron, there are some things you don't know…."

"And now's not the time to tell me," Ron cut across insistently. "Not with Slytherin to play. Just this once, mate…. You can trust me, she's worth it."

Harry was better at capturing Golden Snitches than golden opportunities.

He let loose an exasperated sigh as he considered his options. Finally Harry decided that, if Ron wanted to remain a willfully ignorant prat, so be it. "Okay, but on one condition…."

"What's that?" Ron asked with a rather forcibly casual air as he bent to put on his shin guards.

"I want you to set things right with Hermione," Harry told him. "Once and for all … no half measures. This has dragged on for far too long. This morning she even stayed away from the team so that I could sit with you and the rest. And then you go and invite Cho, not even in our House, to sit with the team. That was over the top, and I'm sure she was upset."

"I already did apologise," Ron declared as he nearly dropped his second shin guard. "I told you I would, and I did."

"I don't mean just for that," Harry persisted. "I mean for the rest of it, too."

"Umm … let me have the office after the game, and I'll think about it," Ron said reluctantly. "She's the one who ought to apologise, though. Whatever she did to Cho really bothered her."

"You mean, Cho hasn't told you what it was?" Harry asked slyly.

"No. Has Hermione told you?" Ron replied in kind.

At that Harry started to feel warm about the face. He had not expected Ron's response - but perhaps he should have. He did not want to lie to his friend, but Ron had already passed up the one opportunity he was going to get to learn the truth.

"She did, didn't she?" Ron deduced from Harry's silence. "Oi, let me help you with that…."

Harry extended his right arm so Ron could tighten his Re'em leather vambrace laces. "Ron, I really don't want to go into that - not with Slytherin to play," Harry consciously echoed Ron. There would be no pre-game Armageddon. He fumbled with the fastening on his outer cape.

"That's all right, mate," Ron replied surprisingly calmly. "But if you can't tell me - well, Hermione must have done something really dodgy. She should be apologising to Cho, I think."

Harry disagreed. "That's a crock, Ron." Maybe Hermione had been indiscreet, but it had been the truth. And what she did was out of concern over Ron's emotional well-being. "Mate, I'd really like you to be the one to end this," he repeated, whilst pulling his headband (red, bearing hospitalised teammate Katie Bell's number 3 in bright yellow) into place.

"Harry, I don't make you choose between me and her," Ron said seriously. "I know what shagging's all about, so I'm don't press my luck. But don't ask me to choose between you and Cho either. Same reason…."

Harry gave in. "Well you'll have to change the password again, then."

Ron's smile told Harry that Ron knew he had won the round. "Already have. For today only, it's `Slytherin Sux' in honour of our opponent." He pulled on his gloves.

"It's your funeral," Harry commented over his shoulder as he left the captain's office.

Behind him, he heard Ron mutter, "Screw it, let's play Quidditch…."

It was time to break out the Firebolts. Co-Captain Ron handed Co-Captain Harry the key to the new broom cabinets dominating one wall of the Gryffindor clubhouse.

Beyond ten Firebolts per house, Harry's Quidditch trust donated elegant glass-doored cabinets for the brooms' safekeeping. Never would Bowtruckles gnaw these brooms looking for woodlice. To prevent cheating, the cabinets' security enchantments could detect performance-altering spells. Under Harry's equipment standardising rules, all Firebolts must be kept under lock and key at least twelve hours before a match.

The Firebolts distributed, Ron addressed the Gryffindor team, saying only, "All right, team. You're about to play Slytherin. For some of you, it's probably the most important thing you'll ever do in your entire life. Now let's go kick some arse."

* * * *

After the initial kick off, in practically no time at all Harry realised how right Ron was. Without their artificial advantage in broom quality, this Slytherin team was not very good.

Although Harry had not created the Quidditch Trust with any intent to disadvantage Slytherin specifically, he gave himself a mental pat on the back for bringing that result about.

A roar rose from the crowd behind and beneath him. The cacophony dissolved into a spontaneous chorus of "Weasley Is Our King." Harry turned and noted happily that the Gryffindor portion of the stands was singing.

With a couple of quick zigzag passes across the pitch, Harry started his search for the Snitch. He knew from experience that, if it failed to put in an appearance within the first few minutes, the Snitch would probably be elusive the entire game.

He heard the tell-tale crack of a Beater's bat striking a Bludger, and took quick evasive action - an inside loop. The hit was poor. The Bludger missed him by a good five metres.

The Slytherin Seeker, Kevin Harper, tracked Harry so clumsily through that manœuvre that Harry suspected the rookie could barely control the high-powered Firebolt he was riding. The Slytherin was not much of a threat to catch the Snitch - particularly since his idea of strategy was to mark Harry rather than even try looking for the Snitch itself.

More crowd noise drew Harry's attention back to the game. The Slytherin Chasers were gathering in attack formation. Harry grinned.

It was time for some fun….

Far below Harry, Hermione had settled somewhat nervously into a spot next to Neville and Luna. As long as Harry was playing, she would never willingly miss a Quidditch match - but she did not enjoy the games very much. She was always on pins and needles, beside herself with worry that Harry would again injure himself as he had all too many times before.

Thus, she kept her wand at ready inside her thick cold-weather robes.

The new announcer for this year's matches - at least those not involving Hufflepuff - was Zacharias Smith.

"…save by Weasley. I daresay he's improved over last year's rather patchy performances. The Gryffindor co-captain spent most of the summer holiday in Elsinore as Keeper for the Hogwarts team. As a member of that team, myself, I can attest to his progress…."

`Enough about you, already,' Hermione thought nastily. `Back to the game, if you please.'

It was almost as if he heard her.

"…10-nil Gryffindor. Slytherin on the attack. Montague with the Quaffle. Pass to Vaisey…. And it looks like Potter may have spotted the Snitch! He's diving towards the Gryffindor end, with Harper trailing in his wake. There he goes. Straight through the Slytherin formation. Urquhart veers out of the way, almost colliding with Vaisey, who loses control of the Quaffle…."

Hermione tensed up. It was probably another of those whatever feint things. To her, it always looked as if Harry would wind up as a grease spot on the frozen turf. If something happened…. Her wandtip expectantly poked from the sleeve of her heavy cloak.

"…Potter pulls up. Does he have the Snitch? No. Robbins scoops the Quaffle from the grass and heads the other way. I'm guessing that was just a feint by Potter to disrupt the Slytherin attack."

Hermione remembered to breathe again.

"Robbins to Miss Ginny Weasley. The fiery redhead was also one of the highlights of the Elsinore summer camp - in more ways than one. Weasley fakes right and goes left. Whoa, look at that flying! Has the new Slytherin Beater, Van Lingle Park I think it is, completely turned around. Weasley to Thomas on the opposite side, and back to…."

"Look out! Park barely misses running into his own Seeker, Harper, who's trying to keep up with Potter and not managing much of job of it. Park flails rather wildly at a Bludger…."

Hermione, who had been following the action at the other end, nearer Harry, looked back downfield.

"…Ouch, that has to hurt. Got his own teammate, I'm afraid. Ginny Weasley behind the back to Robbins, who goes in for…. Oh, bloody Hell, look out! Vaisey's unbroomed…."

Park's futile attempt to launch a Bludger at Harry had gone worse than astray - striking his own Chaser squarely in the back of the head. Vaisey's unguided broom had wobbled forwards of its own accord for a few more seconds, until rolled and the unconscious Slytherin Chaser fell off. Vaisey plummeted head down towards the frozen, rock hard turf twenty metres below.

Almost everyone in the crowd, however, was following the play that turned into Gryffindor's second score. Everybody except Hermione….

Even before Smith mentioned it, Hermione had jumped onto the bench for a clean line of fire.

"Arresto Momentum"!

Hermione's aim was true. Vaisey's fall slowed abruptly, and he landed with a soft crunch in the brittle, frosted grass - unconscious, but alive.

A shrill whistle blew three times, as Madam Hooch shot red sparks in the air to signify an emergency time out.

Hermione sat down, breathing hard. Her hands, rock steady only moments before, now shook uncontrollably.

"Good show," Neville complimented her, "even if he's a Slytherin."

"Stupid bloodthirsty game," she muttered in reply. "That could have been Harry."

"What about me?"

Hermione's eyes jerked up. Hovering just above the outstretched hands of the crowd was Harry. His windblown hair stuck out in all directions, restrained only about the edges by his Katie Bell remembrance headband. He was regarding Hermione with a mixture of concern and pride glowing in his eyes.

"Harry!" she squeaked. At that moment, she longed for his touch. But that was impossible. He was risking a yellow card, just by leaving the field of play.

"That was you, wasn't it?" he asked.

"Afraid so," she confirmed in a low voice that he could barely hear over the crowd noise.

"Looks like I'm not the only one with a `saving people thing' today - thank Merlin," he told her. "You were…."

"Potter! Get back over here!" rang out Hooch's gravelly voice. "You've got three seconds or I'll award a penalty shot."

What Harry thought would be a five- to ten-minute time out turned into almost half an hour.

First, Professor Slughorn interrupted things to award Hermione thirty house points for preventing much more serious injury to the unfortunate Vaisey.

But that delay was trivial compared to what came next. Slytherin, it seems, did not have a replacement Chaser. As a result, Adrian Pucey was called out of the stands to stand in for the Snakes. He had injured his back in an accident at a Finnish dragon reserve the previous August, and had elected to retire from Quidditch.

Not surprisingly Pucey was out of shape and out of practice.

Losing their best offensive player barely ten minutes into the match effectively extinguished what little spark the Slytherins had shown.

After the accident, Park appeared almost afraid to touch a Bludger. Eventually, Urquhart saw enough and replaced him with Erma Underwood, a fourth year. She became the first female Beater ever in Slytherin Quidditch.

But it was not a good day for making history - at least not if one wore the green and silver.

By the time the score reached 100-nil, Harry dropped the strategy he had worked out with Ron of using the Wronski Feint (or spur-of-the-moment variants) to disrupt the Slytherin Chasers. His own Chasers were doing just fine without the extra help, and Harper had stopped following him. At that point the only way Gryffindor could possibly lose was if Harper somehow found the Snitch whilst Harry was otherwise engaged.

By the time the score reached 180-10, even that remote possibility had evaporated. Harry searched diligently for the elusive Snitch, hoping to end what was rapidly becoming a rather ragged game. Ron - whose performance in goal was bordering on the otherworldly - had begun mock conducting the Gryffindor rooters in choruses of "Weasley Is Our King" after each save he made.

Ginny scored yet again as Harry completed another fruitless pass over the Pitch. He nearly tumbled headfirst over his broom handle as Harper broadsided him from below.

"Watch out, you berk," Harry growled. He looked for a skinning foul, but Madam Hooch was watching a scrum for the Quaffle under the Slytherin goal where Pucey had fumbled a pass.

"I was, Mudblood lover," Harper sneered back at him. "What are you going to do? Have her break my legs too?"

"Arsehole," Harry returned the taunt, as he scanned the sky for the Snitch. "I'm perfectly capable of breaking your legs myself, if you keep this up."

"You and what army, wuss?" Harper continued. "Dumbledore's Armpits?"

Another roar went up from the crowd as Gryffindor scored again, on a perfectly executed give and go between Ginny and Demelza.

"Are you ever going to put in that Paki half-n****r bint?" Harper taunted. "Or do you just keep her around to draw your water and polish your brooms?"

"She'll fly circles around you and kick your arse from every direction while she's at it," Harry shot back.

"I'm so scared."

In a cold fury, Harry executed another power dive, scattering the Slytherin Chasers and forcing Tristan Marlowe, the other Slytherin Beater, nearly into the turf to get out of Harry's way. Then Harry utilised his captain's prerogative and called a time out.

"What's that all about?" Ron asked as he floated down from goal.

"I've had it with that wanker, Harper," Harry spat out the Slytherin's name. "Jazzy, get in there…. But watch out, Harper's looking for trouble."

"He'll find it," Jazzy hissed, the murderous look in her eye fully matching Harry's. Before stowing her wand in her things, she used it to make a small portion of her uniform temporarily transparent - revealing that she had taped enough extra padding around herself to block a charging Hippogriff. "They all think they can run me over - once."

Over the next fifteen minutes, Jazzy succeeded in drawing no fewer than three fouls from Harper - and she converted all three of the penalty shots. Her fake just before the final shot, when she put her Firebolt into a deliberate stall, almost caused the Slytherin Keeper to fall off his broom in an unsuccessful attempt to switch directions. He ended up dangling from the bottom of the left goal mouth.

True to Harry's word, Jazzy flew circles around Harper … and she had even more of a knack than he for knowing when the referee's attention was diverted.

Unfortunately the Snitch remained stubbornly out of sight.

When the score reached 300-20, Ron cleared his bench, pulling himself in favour of Cormac McLaggen, putting in Rodney Taunton, the reserve Beater, and having Harry play out of position at Chaser so Dean Thomas could go to the Hospital Wing to have his right elbow looked at. Marlowe had smacked him squarely on the point with his bat whilst Hooch was in the process of calling yet another foul on Harper.

Ginny greeted him warmly. "Okay, Harry, let's see how good you are with this." She called Demelza over. "Parkin's Pincer on whoever's out front of their goal. Harry, you'll be the last one with the Quaffle. Once I've cut through, I'll head for the centre ring…. Hit me with a lead pass…."

It almost worked.

Harry nearly knocked Montague down with his crossing movement. But he fumbled the Quaffle ever so briefly getting into position to throw. The lead pass was perfect, but Ginny was a metre or so too close to goal. She was called for haversacking and the goal was disallowed.

Another three-quarters of an hour passed after that "Air-Ginny" moment before Jazzy finally caught a glimpse of the Snitch and put Slytherin out of its misery.

The final score was 540-30.

Barely controlled chaos reigned in the Gryffindor clubhouse. In the background rock music blared, courtesy of WWN. Various team members were whooping and hollering. Comments about this play or that were yelled back and forth across the changing room. From the showers came a shriek, as Cormac reached over and turned Demelza's water ice cold whilst she was trying to wash her hair.

For a while only Dean was actually visible, as all of the others were still under their Obscuring Charms as they changed out of their generally rancid robes. The match - even though it was a rout from the first few minutes - had lasted almost five hours.

Harry took his time changing. He was dead knackered. Chaser was a much more physically demanding position than Seeker. The Chasers moved and ran some sort of play or another almost constantly.

And as Seeker, Harry had never had to play defence.

But he was also content. Gryffindor had won his first game as co-captain handily. Nobody had gotten seriously hurt (on his team, anyway), and Dean looked fully healed. Not only that, victory was a balm that seemed to heal all wounds. McLaggen thanked Harry for not sacking him from the team, and told him that, while he would probably never like Jazzy, she was a good Seeker and belonged on the team. Even Jazzy had opened up a bit. After she finished changing, she stayed on to chat easily with Richie Cooke about Seeker-Beater coordination.

Jazzy never chatted easily with anyone.

Of course, it helped that Harry had given her a great big hug in front of the assembled crowd when she had caught the Snitch.

Lee Jordan's familiar voice came over the Wizard Wireless. "…was `Which Witch Will It Be?' by the Four Elements. And this final - just in. Gryffindor beat Slytherin … YEAH!! … in Hogwarts Quidditch by a score of 540-30. That's the first 500-point victory margin since Hufflepuff beat Ravenclaw by 620-80 way back in 1976. Way to go lions! That calls for…."

The first chords of Queen's "We Are the Champions" boomed over the airwaves as half the team started singing, along.

I've paid my dues…. Time after time…. I've done my sentence….

Those who did not know the lyrics tried to silence the off-key crooning of those who did by throwing towels, kneepads or whatever else was lying around at the singers.

Laughing, Harry popped his own Obscurus and started buttoning up his shirt.

Just then Ginny walked in the door. She was still dressed in her uniform. She had a happy, almost dreamy look on her face.

Harry wondered whether she might have been snogging. Perhaps she had reconciled with Neville - but she had been avoiding him, and Neville had been moping around. One could hope, but frankly, Harry doubted it.

More importantly for present purposes, she was carrying a case of beer, which she propped on a stool in the centre of the room.

"Budvar for everyone! Finnegan's treat," she yelled happily. Everyone started gathering around, jostling to get a bottle (or two) of the Muggle brew.

Everyone except Harry, that is.

But Ginny had not forgotten him.

She approached him, holding a bottle of Limonade in one hand and a bottle of the Czech beer in the other. She offered him the Limonade. "I know you don't drink, Harry. And I saw you downing these at the Ball. So I brought one for you."

Harry was parched. Since breakfast, all he had had to drink had been "Hogwartsade" - a foul concoction tasting like orange Kool-Aid mixed in seawater - use of which was mandatory during all Quidditch matches (since Ravenclaw had been caught using Pepper-up Potion several decades ago, or so McLaggen had once said).

Harry put off the process of strapping on his wand and took the proffered beverage. "Thanks, Ginny," he muttered gratefully, and took a large swig.

"I've saved a beer for Ron," Ginny mentioned. "What's the password?"

"Slytherin Sux," Harry said absently whilst distracted by desire to quench an almost overwhelming thirst.

"That they did," Ginny said with a grin as she walked past him, the long-necked beer bottle held loosely in her hand.

Harry let Ginny pass by, but as he looked away, he saw Jazzy eying him enviously. He realised that, as a Muslim (if not a particularly devout one) - not to mention being underage - Jazzy did not drink either.

"Hey, Ginny," he called out, wanting a Limonade for Jazzy. The wireless, however was blasting out the final crescendo from "We Are the Champions," and she did not hear him.

Harry took a couple of steps in her direction, but one of his bare feet found a puddle on the wet floor. Steadying himself, Harry saw Ginny's hand go to the doorknob for the captain's office.

And he also saw, to his eternal mortification, a Gryffindor tie wrapped firmly around the doorknob's handle.

`Shite!' Harry thought. He bolted after Ginny.

He missed his mark by no more than a couple of seconds - but a couple of seconds was far too late.

There, in front of Ginny, Ron and Cho were frantically shagging. Cho wore not a stitch of clothing; and Ron only a single, very out of place, Gryffindor team sweat sock on his left foot. She was perched on the front of the captain's desk that occupied most of the floor space in the rather small room. Ron's backside partially hid Cho from view, as he pounded away relentlessly. From Ginny's place in the doorway, their angle left nothing whatever to the imagination.

Ginny stopped short, momentarily speechless. Harry, who had been hustling after her, skidded to an abrupt stop, centimetres from bowling her over.

Ginny's silence lasted only as long as it took her to comprehend the scene before her and to collect her thoughts.

All too soon, she lit into her wayward brother. "Ronald Weasley, you stupid sack of…."

Harry went for his wand - only to realise it was still with his things outside. Wandless, he incanted "Imperturbatus." It seemed to work. Then he slammed shut the door and sealed it with a quick "Colloportus." A squelching sound told him that had worked, too.

"…dragon dung…!!"

Ron's head whipped around, and once he saw the audience he had attracted, he instantly lost the physical ability to continue.

Cho groaned in frustration.

"Ginny! What the hell are you doing here!?" Then Ron saw Harry behind his sister. "Oi, are you mental? Why did you let her in?"

Harry, however, found himself speechless. That scaly, reptilian beast in his chest was back. The entire room reeked of raw sexual passion, and he was at most a foot away from Ginny - who was paying him no attention whatever.

As the monster thrashed within him, reducing his insides to quivering shreds, Harry quite lost the ability to speak coherently. All the blood that ordinarily maintained rational thought seemed to desert him and flow elsewhere. His brain felt cool and numb, while his other head went all hot and bothered.

Thus, Ron's angry, if somewhat out of breath, question came at Harry as if shouted from the other side of a vast, yawning canyon.

Harry never had to bother articulating an answer, because Ginny was ready for a go with her brother.

"I can't believe you, Ronald!" she tore into him viciously. "She's the Seeker for a different House, dammit, and you have her in our Captain's office, the both of you shagging each other senseless with the whole bloody team just outside that door!"

"That bloody door was closed and password protected until you had to open it!" Ron gave as good as he got.

Cho, however much she had been shagged, was anything but senseless. With not the least bit of concern over showing everything she possibly could to Ginny and Harry, she slid off the desk. In complete and glorious nudity, she defiantly faced down Ginny - and only incidentally, Harry.

Her movement attracted Ron's attention. "You wanna get dressed, Luv?" he asked her. "Not much sense staying around here with this harpy on the warpath…." Scowling at Harry, Ron added, "Some friend you turned out to be."

Harry sucked in a breath, but not on account of Ron's rather accurate accusation. Instead, he was getting an eyeful of Cho - first-hand proof that she really did have a strategically located tattoo. He had been trying, as before, to tame the beast within. The scenery was not making things easy.

"No, Ron," Cho cut him off. "If you want to leave, go ahead, but if your sister wants to exchange words, then so be it."

Harry felt like he was bolted to the floor. Inches behind Ginny, he battled for control whilst the beast within continued to churn things up. What Ron had been doing with Cho a few moments before suddenly seemed like a very good idea. If he could just get Ginny to go along with it….

`Not a good idea,' the little voice within counselled.

Ron declined Cho's rhetorical invitation to leave. Rather he slouched against the far wall, giving everyone in the room the "Full Ronald." From there, he looked on furiously whilst Cho - equally furiously - lit into Ginny.

Pulling her mussed up, almost waist-length black hair out of her face, Cho shot daggers at Ginny for a couple of seconds before telling her, in as haughty a voice as she could muster. "You can just get off your high Hippogriff and stay off … little sister…!"

Cho's expression was so evil and angry that Harry instinctively wanted to put his arms around Ginny to protect her from - something. He did not actually move a muscle, though, as the voice within told him, `If you start that, you might not be able to stop. Think about that.'

"…It's none of your goddamned business what Ronnie and I do behind closed doors…!"

"The hell it isn't!!" Ginny screamed back. "I'll not have you leading my brother astray like this. He can't see it, but I can! You've got him tied around your bloody finger like a bow, you - you…!"

"I'm a what?" Cho sneered.

The monster pushed back, roiling Harry's gut. `Leave it,' the silent voice directed. `If you do something stupid, like grope Ginny, you'll only turn that girl's wrath upon yourself.'

Harry knew what Cho was. Thus he (and the monster within) could not help but root for Ginny to win this catfight.

"I said, I'm a what?" Cho taunted, her voice going all screechy.

"You … you … scarlet woman!!" Ginny exploded.

"Like you'd have any clue…. You haven't the slightest chance of knowing what that even means!" Cho said in dangerous tones. "As if you've ever shagged anybody in your whole miserable life, you pathetic little…. Tell me. Until just now, had you even seen anybody shag before - even in pictures!?"

Ginny purpled with rage. Cho's spiteful words were all the more cutting for being unerringly on the mark. Ginny clenched the beer bottle originally intended for Ron so tightly that the cap was on the verge of popping off. "You shut your trap!" she demanded. "You've no right…!"

"Oh, I think I've every right in the world!" Cho hissed as she pressed what she sensed to be an advantage. "I've seen you traipsing around the Castle for over a year, teasing this boy and that - a little tongue here, a bit of a feel there. But you've left them all hanging…. That's why you can't keep any boyfriend for more than a month or two…. All bloody prick tease and no action at all…!"

Ginny's eyes bugged out in rage. "You have no idea what you're on about!!" she roared back.

The monster within Harry continued urging him to protect Ginny - to protect her, and then, when this fight was over, to find someplace private to disprove everything Cho was saying…. He finally found his voice. "Cho, given where you are and what you've been doing, I don't think…."

"Oh, and you're bloody Exhibit A, Harry," Cho pounced. "You've shagged - that's for sure. You've put the pipe to your Hermione so thoroughly that sometimes it's all she can do to walk the next morning…."

Luckily, nobody in the room had a wand handy, because somebody (except maybe Ron, who was content to spectate) most surely would have used it. The monster in Harry's chest was rattling its cage with such force that Harry would have used his just to calm it down. At least that seemed to distract his Fifth Element magic from appearing.

His voice of reason had gone silent the moment Cho brought Hermione into things.

"You're a bloody slag!" Ginny squealed. "Just because I don't go banging my boyfriends in every broom closet and under every stairwell in the Castle…!"

"Now wait a minute, Ginevra!" Ron blurted, sensing that now his own conduct was being called into question.

"Hippogriff shit! You don't go banging any of your love-ya-and-leave-ya boyfriends anywhere at all!" Cho jeered at her. "You've got no more experience than a second year. That's the root of your bloody problem."

Ginny was beside herself. "You presumptuous little slant-eyed bint!!" she screamed. "You have no way of knowing what I do or don't do!!"

His beast told Harry that, if even if Cho was right, he should simply take Ginny next door to the empty Ravenclaw Quidditch clubhouse - where they could rectify the situation.

The little voice was back, battered but not beaten, telling Harry, `No.' He seemed paralysed, rooted to the spot. Still, Ginny was so close to him….

"Oh, don't I now!?" Cho spat while giving Ginny a painfully patronising look. "You just call me names because you're too damn inexperienced to do anything yourself!"

"Just shut up, you … you … slut!!!" Ginny screamed.

"Look you little slut wannabe," Cho kept on, "It's easy. I can tell just by how you walk that you've never been loosened up … ever. Weeks ago, Hermione passed by you like you were standing still - weeks ago…!"

The mention of Hermione tensed Harry up. Both the beast and the voice seemed to retreat. But it was only a fleeting mention.

"…Ronnie and I, we've been shagging for months. You're the odd girl out here. Hell, you're way behind Demelza, who lost hers last year. And Romilda's got such a head start on you, you'll never catch her in a million years. Even that loser Connie Marpeth…."

Finally, Ginny could take no more. She screamed an incoherent phrase that ended in "cunt" as she threw the beer bottle at Cho with all of her might. She followed by hurling herself at the woman she found the most hateful thing in the world at the moment.

Cho dodged the bottle, which exploded against the back wall. At the same time, she shouted something in Chinese that nobody understood, but sounded highly uncomplimentary.

She could not dodge Ginny, however. The enraged redhead slammed into Cho, putting an elbow into the older girl's shoulder and forcing her backwards. With her other hand, Ginny grabbed a fistful of Cho's hair and yanked - hard.

Cho screamed and retaliated by raking the right side of Ginny's face with her long fingernails, leaving slashes all the way from Ginny's ear to her chin. Cho ripped so hard at Ginny's cheek that two of her nails broke off.

The physical escalation bestirred Ron from bemused onlooker status. Cho handily winning an insult battle with his sister - something he never did - had all been jolly good. But an actual brawl was something else altogether. Grunting loudly, Ron wrapped both arms around Cho's nude midsection and tried pulling her away.

The sound of cloth ripping filled the air as Cho pulled at Ginny's jumper.

"Dammit Harry, grab ahold of Ginny…!" Ron shouted, as he struggled with his girlfriend. "…Get her out of here!" Ginny, bleeding profusely from facial lacerations, was beating Cho about the head with both her fists - not terribly effectively.

`Be careful.' The little voice seemed even smaller amongst the tumult.

His inner monster raucously urging him on, Harry followed Ron's lead - except he and Ginny were both fully clothed. He could feel Ginny struggling against his superior brute strength as he tried prising her away from Cho. With an unintelligible cry, Ginny tried to kick Cho with one of her Quidditch boots. She landed only a glancing blow.

As he forcibly dragged Ginny backwards, Harry was acutely aware that she was twisting and writhing - pressed against him from his thighs all the way to his shoulders. The beast in him knew that, if he just moved his left hand slightly upwards … or the other one a bit downwards … he would start to get some satisfaction….

Harry did neither of those things - a testament to his little voice almost screaming at him.

"LET ME GO, HARRY!!!" Ginny roared, her eyes flashing red as she clawed at Harry's encircling arms.

To move her farther from Cho, Harry pivoted and leaned backwards. He was able to lift a flailing Ginny completely off her feet.

Bad move.

Harry felt Ginny tense, then, "Oof!" Ginny's elbow landed a sharp blow to the pit of his stomach. Staggering, he tried to set her down.

"Aieee!" he screamed - painfully aware that he was barefoot whilst Ginny still wore her game boots.

She had just slammed her right foot down, hard, into Harry's unguarded instep.

Harry's grip was already loosening when, "WHAM!" Ginny bashed him squarely in the face with the back of her head. He felt his nose break as the impact jammed his glasses into his forehead. A flock of tiny bright lights migrated across Harry's field of vision. Instinctively, he let go of her altogether. His hands went to face, and….

"Whump!" Ginny finished him off with a solid kick to the most sensitive spot of his anatomy. The pain was tremendous. Sheets of excruciation ripped through Harry in all directions. He doubled over in agony, slumped to his knees, went incontinent, and vomited - all in the few seconds before unconsciousness mercifully took him.

* * * *

The next time Harry laid eyes on anything, he was staring at the overly familiar ceiling of the Hospital Wing. The first thing he did was groan.

"Oh, Harry," he heard a familiar, if rather brittle, voice. An instant later he felt Hermione's hand slip into his as she started talking very fast. "Thank Merlin. I was waiting for you to change…. Then everything dissolved into shouting and confusion. Ginny burst out, cut up, and sprinted for the Castle like a scalded Kneazle. Then Ron hauled you out - he was barely dressed. Your face was a mess; blood all over. Oh, Merlin…. He screamed for Madam Pomfrey. It was awful. Then Hagrid ran over and hauled you away. I followed, but they wouldn't let me in here to help, even though I'm a trainee…."

Harry's memory of the run up to his injuries was hazy. He was quite unable to separate what he might actually have done from what he had only wanted to do. Harry watched Hermione closely - looking for any sign that he provoked Ginny by doing something improper.

"...I couldn't believe it. You'd made it through the entire match against Slytherin unhurt," Hermione carried on, "but then, you still ended up like this…."

He detected no indication in Hermione's actions, voice, or demeanor that she was upset with him. Harry relaxed just a bit. By now he very much doubted that he had groped Ginny, or anything similar, but even if he had, at least nobody seemed to have told Hermione.

One thing for sure, he had to stay away from Ginny. He had almost done something very wrong.

Hermione prattled on. Talking was a stress reliever for her. It was dark out. She had probably been sitting by his bedside for hours.

"…found out why. It was the nature of your injuries."

"How badly was I hurt?" Harry rasped, his voice sounding dry and far away. It seemed odd that, after being excluded, Hermione was now the only one about.

"Well, whilst it was never life threatening, in some ways it could have been almost as bad," Hermione answered.

Harry's expression blanched.

"But it wasn't," she hastily added. "Your nose was broken in two places. So was your foot. Your face was all cut and bruised. But the worst of it was … was … bilateral … oh Merlin, I don't even want to say it…."

"Everybody's going to think I'm some sort of a wimp," Harry said with a sigh.

"We already do." It was Vaisey's voice, from beyond the privacy curtain that separated the injured Slytherin Chaser's space from Harry's.

No, Hermione was not the only one about.

"You'd best zip it," Hermione barked at him. "Don't make me wish I'd let you drop." She flicked out her wand and cast a Silencing Charm. "That was dumb on my part," she admitted to Harry.

"First you break my leg, and now Ginny breaks my … well, you know they'll talk," Harry said with a mirthless laugh. "Just my luck."

Hermione began crying silently and lowered her head to his chest. One of her hands clutched his, and the other absently traced circles against his side.

Once he felt her breathing normally again, Harry repeated the question.

This time she answered. "It was just like you said … you had… bilateral testicular rupture," she rattled off the last three words very fast, before she lost her nerve. "Harry … if you had been a Muggle, you'd probably never be able to have children - ever - maybe not even sex. As it is, you have to leave that Healing Charm on until morning. You'll be getting a bit of a lie in."

Harry said weakly, "I'm sorry, Hermione, I never should have…."

"Oh tosh, Harry, this can't possibly be your fault," Hermione interrupted.

Harry was pleased to receive absolution, but confused. His confusion only grew as she continued.

"…No, this was all Cho's doing, taunting Ginny like that. Granted, you slipped up a bit giving Ginny the password, but they had no business using the captain's office for … for … scandalous purposes … right after a game…."

"Hermione, how do you know about this?" Harry asked. "Did you talk to Ron?"

"You know we don't talk anymore," Hermione briskly replied. "I haven't seen him all evening. I assume he went off somewhere to finish his business with Cho. The post-victory party was the worst I've ever been to. You hurt. Ron who knows where. And Ginny locking herself up in her dormitory and refusing to come out. Half the team missing in action means not much to celebrate."

"Then who did you talk to?" Harry asked. He hoped the wandless charms he had cast in the captain's office before everything happened had at least kept things somewhat private. If anyone else had been watching over his shoulder….

"Ginny," Hermione answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"But you said…."

"Oh, Harry, you know better than anyone how hard it can be to hide away from me," Hermione reminded him. "Remember last Christmas?"

Indeed he could. Then, he had convinced himself that he was possessed by Voldemort. He had avoided everyone, but Hermione (who had cut short a skiing vacation) had put a quick halt to that, barging in on him in the Grimmauld Place attic. She had always cared….

"Sooo … what did she tell you?" Harry asked as neutrally as he could. He could not fathom Hermione being so … unaffected … but if he had betrayed her, he would now find out for sure.

"She told me about you unwisely giving her the password…."

"That was an accident," Harry cut across. "Really damn stupid on my part."

"Be that as it may," Hermione ploughed on. "Ginny wasn't so bright either. She told me she was just so angry and frustrated that she lost it. She'd taken some female self-defence lessons in Elsinore - and basically, she snapped and let you have it. And now she's mortified," Hermione told him. "She can't believe she did that to you."

"She was upset," Harry said philosophically. "My grabbing her and pulling her away like that wasn't so great an idea, but once they started fighting, it was all I could think of. I'd left my wand outside - do you know where it is?"

"Dean collected your things," Hermione reassured. "Your wand's here, and a change of clothes, including your shoes. Everything else should be in the tower."

Back on track, Harry began again, "Still, Ginny did sort of start it - yelling at Ron like that, after she'd interrupted him … er … them…."

"I don't blame her," Hermione countered. "Ginny was quite rightly upset about how the two of them were carrying on. Then Cho started taunting her about still being a virgin. I told Ginny that was nothing to be ashamed of - she isn't even sixteen. At her age, I had over a year and a half left. Not only that, we calculated it. At Ginny's age, Cho was probably a virgin, assuming Cedric was her first, which I suspect he was…."

"So you just pushed your way in, and suddenly the two of you got talking about sex?" Harry asked. He tried to sit up, but Hermione's hand on his chest stopped him.

"Stay down, Harry," Hermione warned him. "You need to give those Healing Charms time to finish. They've several hours to work, yet. Oh, yes … and then in the morning, you have to rub this salve…," she pointed to a small French Kilner jar full of some sort of light blue goo, "…on the `affected area.' That should do it … thank Merlin!"

Harry was about to ask something else about his medical care, but before he could, Hermione answered his previous question.

"And yes, Harry, that's about what happened. Once she got started, she really wanted to talk. She was thinking of resigning from the team, she was so upset. I told her to talk to you about that, and not to Ron…."

"Why me?" Harry protested. He really did not want to be talking privately to Ginny any time soon.

"Because Ron probably would tell her not to let the door hit her on the arse on the way out," Hermione pointed out. "And that would hurt the team. You saw how well Ginny played today. She told me that she was even chatted up by a talent spotter for the Holyhead Harpies. You … well, I didn't think you would let her go that easily…."

Harry's gut clenched, but evidently Hermione meant nothing by that phrase.

"No. You're right. She's good," Harry said monosyllabically. "But chatting about sex?"

"Like I said, Ginny was very upset, and wondering if there were something wrong with her," Hermione explained. Breaking into a suggestive grin, Hermione continued, "I've been, well, reading a lot about that particular subject recently - because I want … I want to satisfy you…."

"Hermione, come kiss me," Harry broke in. A gentle, longing embrace followed. When it ended, he added, "Sorry, but that's about as much as I have in me right about now."

"Don't worry, you'll be fine by morning," she replied.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"How do you think?"

"Er … library?"

"Well, duh," Hermione smirked whilst theatrically rolling her eyes. "When I found out what had happened - and you know I wouldn't let it rest until I found out at least that much - you can imagine what was the first thing I wanted to know. Only after I'd finished with that, did I go back to the common room."

"So, Ginny and you are fast friends now?" Harry asked.

"I don't know that I'd call it that," Hermione answered. "Just say, I'm looking out for her a bit. I told her, that if she tried to compensate by going boy crazy because of what Cho said, she'd have to deal with me. But it's closer to my being a mentor rather than us being friends. We share certain interests, but that's also an issue…. I'm afraid that, well, we share certain interests."

"Such as?" Harry asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes again, this time not in jest. "You really are that thick, aren't you?"

"Huh?" he wondered what prompted that. "What do…?"

"You, that's what," Hermione said flatly.

"What's what?"

"The interest that I'm afraid we share, Harry," Hermione told him. "I don't think she's as over you as she'd like everyone to believe."

"Hermione, I didn't…."

"Of course not," she cut him off. "You wouldn't. I trust you, Harry."

"…And she has a bloody strange way of showing it," Harry added.

"True, she could use some anger management," Hermione agreed.

Harry was relieved. Obviously, he had not actually acted on any of his baser instincts stirred by his scalier alter ego. He was not about to give those instincts another chance. "No matter what, though, I'm not about to invite her to Blackwalls for the holiday."

"I'm in agreement, there," Hermione readily responded. "I trust her, too, but not that much. Enough of that," she changed the subject. "Given what happened this afternoon, I assume you've something to add to our little project. So, was Luna right?"

"Luna?" Harry stared at Hermione. "What's Luna to do with anything?"

Hermione slumped her shoulders and looked ready either to smack either her own forehead, or Harry's. "Luna, as in what she discovered about Cho. I assume that you had a good look at Cho in the altogether. Well…?"

"Oi," Harry groaned, shaking his head. "Luna's right, she does have a good sized circular shaped tattoo starting maybe five centimeters below her, umm, belly button."

"Any other confirmation?" Hermione persisted.

"Er … what more am I to confirm?" Harry asked.

"Harry, just how closely did you look at those pictures of Cho that you showed me before … well you know…?" Hermione had to ask, but she remained extremely uncomfortable about that whole incident.

"Not all that much. Just seeing it was Cho pretty much knocked me for a loop," Harry confessed. "I was never much for that kind of stuff anyway…. Seamus had some…."

"That's quite enough, Harry," Hermione cut across. She took a deep breath. "Okay, does she shave?"

"Shave? Why?" Harry asked, looking genuinely perplexed. "She's a girl."

Rather than rolling her eyes yet again, Hermione looked around. Confirming that nobody was watching them - and especially that the aforementioned Mr. Vaisey remained thoroughly behind that privacy curtain (and her Silencing Charm) - Hermione took his hand. Pressing it against herself, she hissed in his ear. "Did she shave here?"

Without Hermione leaning against him, Harry might have fallen out of bed. Once he composed himself, he confessed, "I-I don't know."

"You don't remember whether she's shaved herself or not?" Hermione asked, instinctively keeping her voice low.

"Not really, no."

"Do you remember how she was in the pictures?" Hermione followed up.

"Not really, no."

"Well, I guess I'll strike that supposed fantasy off the list, then."

* * * *

Author's notes: The magical computer delivery will be important

The postcode, SW1A 9 3/4AA, is a play on British government postcodes, with the wizard "9 3/4" substituted for the integers that differentiate the House of Commons, from the Palace, from Number 10 Downing, etc.

We know Hermione writes regularly to her Muggle parents, so there has to be some interface with the Muggle system. This is my take on that

"A few bricks shy of a load" is a synonym for dumb, but I first heard the phrase as a book title about the Pittsburgh Steelers

Analytic Arithmancy is a play on analytic geometry; Arithmancy for Poets is a play on a class I had at Princeton, titled "Physics for Poets"

The chat with Fleur is the beginning of the end for Voldemort

Nobody knows how the Lust Powder got into the punch; some had decided to suspect Fleur

Fleur's statement about not acting carries with it a converse position

Laignel was just a French name picked at random

Hermione's comment about the destruction of the Bastille is accurate

I think it's an apt definition of harmony

Harmonic convergence is actually a New Age time concept. I swiped the name but left the concept

Synchronicity is another whifty concept, this time lifted from Jung

Fleur engages in tutoiement in getting Harry to wait

Dali is a Spanish painter known for his upswept mustache, as well as his venality

Ron's nudge and wink to Harry is inspired by a Monty Python routine

"[Name of team] Sux is a standard American sporting insult. "Yankees," "Boston," and "Dallas" are the most popular fill-ins around here

A Bowtruckle will figure later on

Ron's "most important thing you'll ever do" line is lifted from a Yale coach's speech to his team before "The Game" against Harvard

"Van Lingle Park" is a combination of two names that share "Mungo" in common

Harper was referring to the incident where Hermione broke Harry's leg in a duel

"You and what army?" is juvenile name-calling

The give and go is a standard basketball play

Harper's final insult to Jazzy was the wizard variant on "hewers of wood and drawers of water," a biblical phrase for servants

Parkin's Pincer is not detailed in canon, so I've made something up

Air Ginny = Air Jordan, but slam dunking is a foul in Quidditch

Since Quidditch locker rooms seem to be coed, I've added an Obscurus Charm to keep things decent

Budvar is beer from the Czech Republic, courtesy of Seamus Finnegan, who largely grew up Muggle

Hogwartsade is a play on Gatorade

The Ginny-Cho confrontation, with Ginny on the receiving end, is intentionally parallel to (if more raunchy than) the Ginny-Ron confrontation in HBP

Full Ronald plays on "full monte"

Ginny unloaded on Harry with classic SING - solar plexus, instep, nose, and groin

"The pain was tremendous," is a line from "Hofstra," an old Bill Cosby routine involving the same pain source

"Face was a mess" derives from Rebel, Rebel, by Bowie

French Kilner jars are resealable jars mostly used in canning in the UK

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