Life and Times
Rating: R
Ship: HHr (main emphasis)
The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for previous plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.
Author Note: Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, readers! Had some time off to write, and did so. Hermione's plot thickens. Hope she'll be all right…and, I hope you enjoy the newest `episode'! (I've taken a creative license to Quidditch-the rules are the same, just added/ combined a few things to make it a more interesting read)
***
Chapter Twenty-Five - Games
***
Our lips met before Harry went off in the direction of the Quidditch pitch and I split for the courtyard. I wished him good luck, now sprinting through the crowd gathering and moving down the cobblestone pathway like a centipede towards the stands. I wouldn't miss Harry's game. I was his little cheerleader after all, his good luck charm. But, I'd grown tired of Xavier. What he did I didn't like. He's stepping over a line. If he was headset on speaking to Minerva, I for one would explain the situation. I didn't want him around me anymore nor did I want him around Harry. His obnoxious behavior went over the word "git". Webster would have to make a new word for him. He was a downright nuisance, a creep crawling its way into my personal, private life.
I wouldn't tutor him any longer.
My bag swung as I flew, my feet not touching the ground. Bounding into one cavalcade of students, I pushed my way through and into the main hall. I waited anxiously for one flight of stairs to its ninety degrees so I could pass, and then another. Hogwarts was filing out, and as I went upward the students thinned. In the corridor, with its stained glass paneled windows arched in repetition along the wall facing out, I could hear the rumble of thunder from an oncoming storm. I turned a corner, knowing the image of the owls was on my horizon: the entrance to the Headmaster's office.
The moment I stepped through and onto the first of many swirling stairs I caught myself. My eyes grew wide and suddenly it was like I couldn't breathe. I had to stop for fear of falling and grabbed onto the rounded railing. My bag shifted with my weight and pulled me, becoming weak from my painful state. I clutched my chest, gathering black cloth underneath my fingernails. I couldn't tell if it was my heart or my head that hurt more, but it didn't matter. The white-hot flashes were more than enough to leave me paralyzed.
Seconds after falling upon the staircase…I blacked out.
I found myself laying in something gritty. My eyes shot open, and I was on my rear. The texture was sand. Salty moisture beckoned the smell of the ocean in front of me. A breeze blew right through me off the water. A long, over-sized white shirt swallowed me whole. I couldn't see my body, the length only slightly under my knees. My feet were open to the atmosphere. I felt naked underneath, and when I went to pull the sleeves of my shirt down I knew I was naked underneath. The breeze would hit me, forming my shape and leaving nothing to the imagination.
I didn't understand.
I didn't know where I was.
The sun off in the distance ahead of me was setting. A darkening orange glow blanketed the horizon, making the ocean bluer. Waves washed ashore farther down the beach, having woken closer inland. Behind me were these shrubby ferns, tall and string-like surrounding pieces of broken wooden fences lining the shore. The beach had done a number to the wood as it looked beaten and eroded from time. Further behind the fence was a path leading to a house not-so-familiar to me.
Going on familiarity, I heard his voice: Harry, on my right. I turned immediately, hearing him like a breath of fresh air from the unknown.
"Hermione, come on!" He wasn't too far away from me down near the water. He was in the middle of shaking a pant leg out, stripping to starkers. A collection of his clothes had fallen, producing the route he took toward the sea.
I bunched my brows together.
Parts of me continued, rising up and chasing after him.
Other parts wanted me to run away, flee.
I couldn't help but get caught up in his eyes, drawing closer to my lover.
He dove into the ocean.
I stood beside his boxers and off went the remaining layer of my wardrobe, dropping atop his.
He wasn't too far out, waiting for me to catch up.
The water felt unusually warm, almost welcoming, though oddly still as I dove in too. I came up, but could no longer see him anywhere.
"Harry?" Not even a ripple from where he had bobbed in the water. I flicked my head left, and then right, my hair sticking wet to my neck. A breeze hit my neck and it suddenly got spine-tingly cold.
I wasn't too far from the beach, so I made a break from it.
Fear broke me.
The orange glow dropped and darkness crept in.
The water looked black.
I felt like I was fighting the waves, the shore just inching closer no matter how hard I swam.
Something from beneath the water clamped onto my ankle.
I tried to slip away, but the more I struggled the more difficult it was to stay afloat.
I tried twisting my body.
The constriction gripped my knee.
I moved my other foot around to kick whatever it was off, but slipped on my own slippery skin as if nothing had ever been there.
Feet away, I was almost there. I could hear the waves on the beach louder each passing second.
I fell forward, a weight upon me from below. It felt like fingers, hands, a full body sliding on me. For the briefest of moments I thought this was a prank gone wrong-that it was Harry-and if so, I'd have his balls on a guillotine. Within me, something cried out-that lingering fear warned me by instinct. The hands grabbed me like claws, tightening, grinding their nails into my skin. The being pulled me into it and I flipped around, sharply gasping at the blonde-haired sneer of Xavier.
My heart fell.
My body went into convulsions.
I wanted to vomit.
I kicked him, cut him with my nails that left bloody lacerations upon his naked skin. I screamed at the top of my lungs before they were filled with water.
He pulled me under…
I found myself back on the staircase.
The intense pain faded, or at least subsided enough for me to get to my feet. The moment I did, shuffling together my bag and the contents that fell out, I raced up the remaining flight. At the door I heard mumbles from behind the old oak. Putting my ear to the wood I hesitated a knock. My knuckle to the door I waited. The respectful part of me kept me still, but only until I couldn't stand it any longer. I knocked, needing to explain my situation, needing to know Minerva knew how I felt, how Harry felt. I didn't know how much time had gone by after passing out, but I needed to be there for Harry and his game. The time dwindled the longer I waited, and I became unnerved while having to remain stationary.
The voices grew closer.
I stepped back when they were right at the door.
I wasn't surprised the slightest when I saw who opened the door; though, the repeating image of Xavier here, there, in my dream increased the rate I breathed. My heart raced. My fingers tightened, clasped firm around the shoulder strap of my bag. The blonde-haired Slytherin stood there, curiously watching me before pushing passed me and down the stairs. The air was considerably cold and I swear he flashed me a smile as he walked on out.
Minerva wasn't seated at the desk. Nearly every time I went to her she was there; so, I'd become accustomed to her ushering me in with a hand gesture and peering at me behind her reading glasses. I saw her standing, walking towards me in her old age, her classic black cloak dragging the ground. She looked even more elderly-was she in pain when she walked?-or maybe I'd gone delusional.
"Miss Granger," The Headmistress came on towards me. She had something on her mind, obvious by the pace. I deduced in the minute that passed quickly why she was leaving, or about to leave, on account of the Quidditch game before she said, "I was just heading out-"
She halted her words when she came within my proximity, now a mere foot from me. "My dear," she gazed at me and stepped that last step. She put her warm, wrinkled hands beneath my chin and lifted my head up. Our eyes locked and she knew right away that I was troubled.
"Come inside, dear. Come inside." She placed her arm around my shoulder and led me further within. I heard the door close behind me and click, locking.
"I apologize for disturbing you when you're wanted elsewhere, Professor."
Dumbledore's portrait moved with him sitting in a chair not unlike the Minerva now sat in. He fidgeted, disturbed by my voice but let out another long snore. His head drifted to one side.
"I always have time for you, Miss Granger," She showed me to the empty chair in front of her desk. I didn't have to really speak, the otherworldly way of knowing now bothering the face of Minerva. She questioned the slump of my posture even before coming to sit down in front of me.
I plopped down in the chair.
"Speak your mind, dear. Something has evidently sapped that youthful spirit I've grown to know and love."
I told her.
I broke down every, single detail-large and small-about Xavier.
I told her from the beginning, during tutoring, how he'd make references to Harry-how he didn't like me with Harry, and how he showed me this side of him.
I told her what had happened during lunch an hour ago.
I told her how I kept getting this chill around him, and how I fell and dreamt of him drowning me.
"I can't tutor him anymore," I said at the end. She listened without a word. "Josephine or someone else must take him on as their lot. I just don't feel right around him, and now, everywhere I go it seems like he's there-like he follows me."
"Like him being in my office before you."
I nodded.
Minerva leaned back in her chair and folded her hands beneath her chin. She glanced away from me and stared in silence. I didn't know what to make of it and watched her looking out a window, at the blackening clouds of a gathering storm. I sat there, comfortable being within the office but uncomfortable at the sudden, deep quietness she made.
I heard her inhale one, long breath and easily let out an exhale. She nodded, flicking her graying eyes toward my own.
"I'll be telling Josephine in person of the change starting immediately."
I breathed a sigh of relief.
The Professor wouldn't have made me go otherwise. I was glad I wouldn't be around Xavier anymore.
"I'll also have a word with Mister Hart on his recent behavior. No one should feel disturbed here. This has always been a place of open arms."
"Thank you, Professor," I smiled, and through mine, she did too. I went to get up, scooting the chair back when I stopped after slinging my bag over my shoulder.
I'd shuttered. Something didn't feel right again.
I glanced back at her, from the direction of the door to which I headed, to see her looking back at me all the same. "Professor?" I asked.
"Yes, Miss Granger?" She had her hands folded in her lap.
"Did Xavier say anything about me or Harry to you while he was here perchance?"
Minerva shook her head.
"He wanted to discuss a matter about the Quidditch gear. Said something about one of the Keeper pads being worn and thin, and that I should know before the game."
"Why would he ask that?"
"He's the Slytherin Captain-why do you ask?"
***
The rain was heavy and the drops-more like shards of glass-stung my face. Even before climbing the Gryffindor-North tower to get to their stand, my clothes were stained with water. The cloth clung to me, bunching up and attaching to my skin. I slid my sweater-shirt up along my arms, to my elbows, and the captured rain poured forth from the fabric squeezed together.
I'd asked Josephine to save me a seat, a former member of Gryffindor herself. She said she'd try and get one up front, but I found her near the middle of our pack. She waved at me, my hand having to cover my eyes to see her through the sheets of rain. Lightning flashed and the crowd roared. I flicked my head to see what had happened to hear, not Lee Jordan, but another commentating voice boom to the audience:
"…And, that's goal number four for Evelyn Matthews! Gryffindor is man-handling the Slytherin's now fifty points ahead!"
High above the pitch a singled-out broom traveled around in circles. If one could look close, one would see Evelyn pumping her arm, having raised her index finger toward the Gryffindor-side to say, "Number One!"
The rest of the Gryffindor squad flew up behind her and took off in a triangular formation back towards the middle of the pitch.
A snarl cracked through a flash of lightning and out came from up above me an image of a lion's head, its eyes toward the southern-end of the pitch, the Slytherin's end. The image bellowed, rumbling the stands. I looked back at our audience to see, and then hear them cry out in excitement.
The Gryffindor House Band took to a champion motif, stating to music the difference of fifty points to our opponent.
Shuffling on into the line of Quidditch-watchers, I continued on toward Josephine, stepping in puddle after puddle on the wooden frame gilded with crimson and gold colour.
"Where have you been?" She asked me under a dripping hood, her jacket thoroughly soaked.
"…Got held up," I quickly changed the subject. "So, I guess I missed the beginning. We need to talk-"
I was interrupted when someone prodded my left shoulder.
I turned to see the bright, yet soddened, faces of William and Ilene.
"You walked on passed us like we weren't even there!" they both exclaimed together.
"I'm sorry, I-"
"Thhhhhhhhe Slytherin's coach Kris Keles should be happy with THAT performance! Where was the defense there, Gryffindor?! Slytherin goal!"
The other end of the pitch shrilly screamed underneath the booming commentator's voice.
The silver and jade-green standards billowed in the strong east wind. A strike of lightning ruptured the darkened sky as their mascot, the Slythering Serpent, curled from their stands and struck at us from afar. A long, drawn hiss drowned the blaring trumpets of their band from the Slytherin students and fans alongside their transparent snake.
Our fans around me began to boo as the Slytherin Chaser, Igor Levski, flew in circles upside-down and taunted the Gryffindor Keeper, Rebecca Greene.
"Where's Harry?" I asked through the heavy booing and boisterous thunder. I'd come closer to Josephine who had joined in with the rest.
She pointed to our right, farther west in the pitch from us in the north. "He moved over there after having to call a time-out to re-group right from the beginning. Apparently, someone had cluttered up the line-up or something."
I could see Harry high up in the air on his broom. Much like Keles, the Slytherin coach, perching above the pitch like this-Harry once told me-they could get a better vantage point of the game. If they saw through the opponent's strategy, they'd call for time and begin a new offensive or defensive tactic. But, that still didn't create enough of an excuse for me to worry about him: one, because of the height he was at and two, because of the troubling storm.
"Does he have to be up there so high?" I called out above another roar from our lion. Gryffindor had scored again. I could see the pads he wore above his school suit.
"It's not like he's going to get hit by lightning," I knew the procedure, but still didn't like it. "You know better than anyone that they make sure to implement a counter-spell for bad weather."
"I still worry about him!"
"Well, look!" We were screaming over the crowd, the stands reverberating an "Ahhh" after one of the bludgers hit a Chaser square in his backside. The Beater had whiffed it completely. "He's flying down! He's probably going to call time! I know I would if I was in his position-that hit looked horrible!"
"And, it looks like Gryffindor's second-string Chaser has been hit! Looks like Christian may be out after that whallop!"
Cheers erupted from the Slytherin's side.
I saw Christian fallen over his broom, holding his shoulder. Lazily, he glided off to the side to meet with Harry as Harry descended.
"It looks like Sierra is being called by Harry to come in for Christian!"
A blonde from the Gryffindor sideline shot out onto the pitch like a rocket, nearly getting nailed by another whizzing bludger along the way. A Beater swooped in and smacked it back towards a Slytherin from above her head.
"Those Beaters sure are getting a workout out there! Someone better find that snitch soon!"
The droplets of rain fell fatter, and harder. The wind picked up a student's umbrella and took it for a ride up into the sky. The tassels of my soggy hair blew sideways, and then upwards, being tossed around in my face. I'd wipe them away, only to have them blow back, forever keeping my eyes on Harry as he flew back onto the pitch from the sideline.
A blur of red and gold rushed by the north stands quickly followed by a blur of green and pewter.
"Zoe has found the snitch!"
The Gryffindor fans leaped in their seats after the commentator.
Zoe, her outlandish pink hair noting her from the team, curled up around the pitch in chase of an invisible target. Behind her, the Slytherin Seeker Lilah, kept with her. Lilah was bent forward on her broom, slipping in Zoe's backdraft. Any moment Zoe knew Lilah would make her move. She outreached her hand, unbeknownst to her surroundings.
The rest of us could see green flying in and-with a group sigh-saw Zoe collide with one of the Slytherin members.
The Slytherin-side of the pitch applauded at their teammates' unsportsmanlike conduct.
Madam Hooch, the Hogwarts game's referee clad in black started in towards Zoe and the Slytherin. Her whistle could be heard astutely, ringing sharp for all to hear.
"Darrel knew what he was doing-that's going to be a foul against Slytherin and a free toss for Gryffindor!"
Harry flew down from his perch above, heading in a bee-line to Madam Hooch.
Keles came in from the opposite direction, the game having come to a halt for the penalty.
Both teams circled near their stands, waiting to hear who would receive the free toss on Gryffindor's side.
The Gryffindor band began to play against the Slytherin band while Madam Hooch decided the fate of the Slytherin player to see who could play the loudest.
"Why is he way over there?" I heard Ilene ask from my side.
I'd kept my eyes on Harry most of the game and didn't realize the lone Slytherin over the invisible line separating the opponents. I blinked and flinched at the crackle of lightning behind me. I squinted to see the Slytherin's details from the distance, but should have realized who the strange loner was.
Sirens in my head went off.
It was like I'd been here before.
Deja vu.
I glanced from one side of the pitch to the next until I saw the oddity I'd searched for: a bludger homing in on Harry's position.
Xavier wasn't even close to Harry, but something inside me told me the bludger and him were both linked.
"Harry!" I screamed out, my scream being muffled by lightning and its partner, thunder.
The students and faculty farther down in the stands heard me when I shouted again.
Harry was hit blindside and he tumbled forward.
He flipped three hundred sixty degrees on his broom, turning and twisting violently in the air. Madam Hooch, as with the rest of the Quidditch players, saw Harry fall quickly from his downward movement and zoom passed them, bludger following. Hooch, with the Gryffindor team and some Slytherin, were after Harry and the rogue bludger in a heartbeat.
The balls went through security measures for tampering before the game.
Everyone on the grounds for the game was screened.
Nothing like this should have happened again since Harry's fight with the bludger our second year.
"Blimey!" Josephine yelled beside me. She clutched onto my arm. "Harry's going to get killed!"
"Josephine!" My eyes lit up and she cowered back.
"…Sorry…," was all I heard from her before bolting from the stands and leaping down the stairs. I didn't really know where I was going other than onto the pitch. My mind sifted through the card catalog of spells and counter-spells I'd learned throughout the years. I could cast some sort of exploding charm to diffuse the bludger, but could miss and hit one of the teammates-or Harry. I thought of stunning the object, but again, could miss my target.
Other faculty members had taken off, spiraling downward in front of me to hurriedly resolve the situation. Stepping onto the grassy expanse I saw Harry dodge, flying upward and backward to misdirect the bludger. The bludger, with a seemingly devious brain of its own, continued to follow him not obstructed by Harry's plan to divert its direction.
My hand had found my wand deep within my shoulder bag. I held it high and followed the brown ball. I heard the faculty around me discussing a plan of attack, but no immediate action. I couldn't let this continue. I couldn't just stand here and let Harry fly, and fly, and fly until something happened-with that something being him hurt, or…more.
I tried to calm myself.
I tried to find my center.
I wished I knew how to meditate on command.
My hand shook feverously.
Rain water burned and blurred my vision.
I blinked, finding a calm moment within my peril and pulled all the knowledge and confidence together as I could.
Harry rounded an isolated tower to try and out-smart the bludger again.
A spell was on the tip of my tongue, but broke and I stumbled.
I'd been pushed into from behind.
I flipped around to see a tall, burly man-a half-giant with too much facial hair and a face I've known my entire life at Hogwarts.
He would have been smiling, as he always did, but the time wasn't cut for happiness.
"Hagrid!"
"Wotcher, `Ermione. Been `ere before, aye?" Hagrid had his umbrella pointed in the direction my wand had been in.
I shot a glance back to Harry who came around the other side of the tower and tried to dive, but was clocked, the bludger slamming into the side of his head after busting through the tower's wooden structure.
The bludger bounced off his doll-like ricochet and Harry plummeted from his broom. I screamed out, running to where he fell, wand at the ready. The bludger blew up in flames as I heard Hagrid spout an incantation. The point of my wand was on Harry, but my Leviosa spell didn't come off before a member of the faculty threw out their own, stronger levitation spell.
Harry's broom fell to the pitch like a bowling ball.
Harry fell to the pitch like a feather.
When I'd gotten to him his eyes were closed and he wasn't moving.
Everything within me dropped to the pit of my stomach.
I've lost him were the first words that streaked inside my buzzing mind.
***
"How many times has it been, Mister Potter?" Madam Pomfrey finished the left side of Harry's face, namely his severely bruised eye, with this yellowish goo for a jar. The smell was like nothing I'd ever smelled, and its fumes brought actual tears to my eyes.
I didn't know how Harry could stand it being applied to his eye if it made mine water uncontrollably-or maybe these were tears of sadness, or of joy, seeing him…alive.
Harry made a laugh and winced when Madam Pomfrey began wrapped gauze across the effected eye and around his head, having the headpiece guard removed. She had to lift him and move him around, and that evidently cause him pain. He gritted his teeth in patterns of terrible facial expressions.
The Gryffindor team surrounded the foot of his bed. I held Harry's hand at his left with Madam Pomfrey beside me. Hagrid, who carried him inside, stayed with us. Our friendly grounds caretaker stood opposite of me.
"Always in a pickle, `Arry," Hagrid made a snort.
Harry closed his exposed eye and made a smile. Madam Pomfrey laid his head back and told him, pointing at him sternly, to "Remain still!"
She went to go fetch some more ointment from her cupboard.
I tightened my clasp of Harry's hand when I saw him smile, and he tightened his grip in response. I stroked the top of his hand, my fingers trying to comfort one of his appendages that didn't look harmed. You could barely see the bruise now, the white wrappings covering the spot, but his eye and its proximity looked awful. More importantly, Madam Pomfrey said he hadn't a concussion which I was sure he'd get from the force of that weighted ball to his head.
"Madam Hooch called the game," Zoe spoke up in silence. I'd begun to run my free hand through his damp hair. "She declared a Gryffindor victory."
"We got the Quidditch House Cup!" rang out William and Ilene. They'd come in and followed us, too. I wasn't surprised, them both being Potter "groupies," so to speak.
"Good…," Harry sucked in a breath and said after a pause. "…Good. How's Christian doing?"
"Are you okay…?" I looked him over as he talked. He'd stopped the second and became uncomfortable. Of course he was uncomfortable, but he made a face I didn't like to see.
"Yeah…guess that pain medication is wearing off. My back where it hit me first is starting to hurt again," He reached around and patted the equipment padding he still had on. "…They don't make them like they used to."
I combed his hair with my fingers as softly as I could, "Madam Pomfrey is coming back… Don't push yourself. Stay still."
All I could think of is Harry overdoing it and reinjuring himself.
He always was stubborn like that.
"…To answer your question, coach," stated Sierra. "Christian was looked at by Madam Pomfrey before you came in. He didn't look half as bad as you and was cleared to go back to-"
Hollering, headache-driven shouts echoed on the walls of the hospital wing. Rambunctious males and squeaky females laughed and carried on as if we were still on the pitch. They sung lyrics that weren't audibly sound until they crept within the doors of the hospital beds where we were. I was looking in their direction. Hagrid was, too. Harry turned about a centimeter toward the door and the rest of our crew all promptly focused on the group that came in.
All of them were from Slytherin, their silver upon the green brightly dazzling in the lights.
"Slytherin! Slytherin! Slytherin!"
"Quiet down, the lot of ye!" Hagrid boomed with his mighty voice.
The adolescents all chattered and wailed, laughing and feigned as if they were listening.
One person stood out.
One person stood in their center.
And, all at once, everything came back to me.
The floodgates of my memory washed over me, and I became utterly possessed by the deepest cluster of my rawest emotion. Seething anger, I was ready to strike. Harry could sense me, and I felt him try to hold me back by my hand, but I easily slipped from his grasp. My feet couldn't really hit the floor. I didn't give them a chance. I was running, faster than I've ever run before.
All I saw was Xavier's face.
All I wanted to do was to crush that image of his face.
He was smiling, and he was smiling at me.
"Hermione!" called out Harry.
"Hermione!" yelled in tandem the choir of Gryffindor around him.
"'Ermione!" Hagrid shouted
I was at fingertip length from his stand-still face, ready to claw those pretty, little eyes out when I was picked up and pulled away. From the ton of strength and overly-large arms, I knew it was Hagrid even before I smelled the earthy odor of animals and dirt on his coat.
My hands were all over Hagrid. Kicking and screaming, I was gone from this reality.
My mind had one thing reeling, and that was Harry.
He had hurt, injured the object of my affection.
The centerpiece of my heart.
The cornerstone of my stability.
People can talk about him, but you lay a finger upon my man…
"Hagrid, let me go-NOW!!"
"'Ermione, calm down!" Hagrid was having a tough time bundling me up as I squirmed. "And you lot there by the door! Get goin'! Get to class! Get outta here!"
"What is the meaning of this?!" Madam Pomfrey shouted behind the Slytherin students huddled in the doorway. She looked from my grunting, to them, and back to Harry.
I felt the tip-toes of my feet touch the floor and thought I had control, but Hagrid scooped me back up underneath my arms.
I'd protect Harry with my life.
"Go you lot before I take fifty points from Slytherin!"
"Ooo!" taunted the Slytherin clique. "Fifty points!"
"Let her go." laughed Xavier. "I want to see what she'll do."
"YOU!" I pointed at Xavier, my scream shutting him up. He still had that wicked smile upon his lips. "You foul, loathsome git! You EVER come near Harry again, I'll-I'll-"
My heart was racing.
I probably overdid it.
But, my emotion-I couldn't stop. The end-all of my protection wouldn't allow me to stop.
"You!-You…"
My fingers fell limp
My arms fell limp.
My body went limp.
Darkness clouded my sight.
Everything went black.
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