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camelliacats · 4 years ago

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Betting on Bludgers

Another random oneshot.

Fic: "Betting on Bludgers" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Demelza Robins/Ritchie Coote, Ginny Weasley, & Jimmy Peakes, with cameos from Dean Thomas, Ron Weasley, & Harry Potter

Rating: K+

Words: ~2,560

Additional info: romance, fluff, Maydayverse, Harry's era, 3rd person POV

Summary: Demelza's a girl, all right, but boys are the last thing on her mind. However, Ginny, Jimmy, and Ritchie are all trying to change her mind about that.

"I'll bet my spot on the team that it'll never happen."

Ginny's eyes went wide at her friend, Demelza's, proclamation. "Demi…just because you don't see it doesn't mean that no one else does. And please don't joke about betting your spot on it. You're a really good Chaser—Gryffindor needs you, especially with all the trouble Harry's gotten himself into this year."

Demelza gave Ginny a look. Of course Ginny would bring that up. It wasn't hard enough on them that this was their fifth year—an important exam year—but Ginny just had to bring up Harry Potter. Demelza knew that Ginny loved him, as in really loved (poor Dean had never stood a chance), and she'd been more determined than ever to take care of the Gryffindor Quidditch team in Harry's frequent absence. So what Ginny was really telling her was "Don't you even think of quitting on me when this is all I can do to lighten the load on his shoulders!"

Demelza was fairly certain Ginny would marry Harry someday. But that was beside the point.

"I just wish you'd stop this talk of boys," the brunette explained to the Weasley. She gathered up the Quidditch magazines with which they were done and made to return them to their place in the library, but Ginny stopped her.

"I'm not trying to be boy-obsessed," Ginny stated. "But Jimmy and Ritchie have gotten a lot showier during practice, Demelza. Just don't let the surprise nip you in the arse when Ritchie asks you out."

The girl with the plaited ponytail scrunched her nose up. "Ginny—I know you like these kinds of things, but I'm not interested in romance. My focuses are tiered thusly: good marks in school, food, and Quidditch."

"What? Quidditch is last? Why?" Ginny looked horrified.

"Because, without food, I can hardly do well in a match. Speaking of which," Demelza continued, using her wand to return the magazines, "we have practice scheduled for after lunch, don't we? Why don't we head to the Great Hall now so we can eat earlier and be on the pitch sooner?"

Ginny huffed but conceded. "Fine…but I'll have you know that you'll have to bring your A-game today. I won't have you distracted on my pitch, but heavens know Peakes and Coote will try." She grunted as they exited the library and headed downstairs.

Down in the Great Hall, Ginny reminded the other members about practice, but then she and Demelza sat with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Demelza jumped into the conversation where appropriate, but she knew she couldn't intrude on their foursome. Really, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were a trio, but it was hard to exclude Ginny sometimes, Demelza had observed. As for Demelza…well, she had Ginny's attention sometimes.

"Oi, Robins!"

Demelza turned in time to see Jimmy Peakes slide onto the bench beside her. Well, if Ginny was caught up in the Golden Trio, then Demelza supposed she could enjoy a conversation elsewhere. "Yeah, Jimmy?"

He grinned. "I was wondering if you were free after practice."

She shook her head. "I'm not. I'm actually going to be doing that essay that I have due for Snape tomorrow." She glanced behind him, where Ritchie Coote sat a few seats down. He waved. "Your friend should consider doing it, too," she finished with emphasis, since Jimmy was two years below them.

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Oh, Demelza…" He held his head dramatically, as if he'd been physically pained. "Can't you see when a bloke's trying to ask you something important?"

Demelza blinked. Oh. Well, Ginny had been wrong before, about Ritchie. Apparently Jimmy was the boy who wanted to be Demelza's distraction. Demelza supposed she was flattered, but… "Sorry, Jimmy. I can't. I don't like you that way."

He gave her a look as if he'd misheard her, with his brow furrowed and his mouth hanging open, all in confusion. "Wait, Demelza—"

However, Ginny stood up then and tugged on Demelza's arm. "Come on, you lot. Jimmy, grab Ritchie and Dean. I want everyone on the field in ten minutes." She motioned for Harry and Ron to come once Hermione was done talking.

Practice went fine, considering Ginny worked them for the entire free period.

"I thought Harry was Captain!" Jimmy wheezed when they'd all landed.

Ginny, Harry, and Ron exchanged a look, and Ron stepped forward. "Harry's…got a full plate," he said. He looked to Dean for help.

"Just be grateful you're on the team, Jimmy," the black boy said, and Ginny nodded her thanks.

Sometimes Demelza felt as though Ginny were one of the sixth years, and not a fifth year like Demelza and Ritchie. It wasn't just the Golden Trio plus Ginny these days; it felt more and more like all of the sixth-year Gryffindor boys, plus Hermione and Ginny, and that whole lot that had comprised Dumbledore's Army last year.

Demelza shook the thought from her head and headed to the showers. "Come on, Ginny, we've got Charms next right after break."

"Yeah, I'll catch up with you in a sec," the redhead replied. And, yet again, Ginny was in a world separate from Demelza's.

The brunette glared at her friend's back, because she was finally starting to feel rather fed up with Ginny's behavior. She stormed away from her and hastily showered and changed, returning to the castle before Ginny could even give anything non-trio-related a thought.

Ritchie was the first one after her, leaving Jimmy behind to put the equipment away. He ran after Demelza, but he had to grab her arm to get her to stop. "Hey, Demelza!"

"What, Ritchie?" She pushed her plait over her shoulder. "Can you be quick? I've got work to do."

His cheeks darkened with a flush. "I just, uh, wanted to say about Jimmy earlier—"

Demelza blinked. "Oh… Yeah, sorry about that. I suppose I was a bit rude to him, wasn't I?" She sighed. "I didn't mean to be that way, but I don't really have time for boys, you know?"

He frowned, but he nodded, at least seeming to understand where she was coming from. "You know what? Don't worry about it. It was nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He grinned. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Right. Bye, Ritchie."

He waved to her and turned back the way of the pitch, but Demelza was hesitant to continue to her break. Eventually the necessity to finish her essay won out, and Demelza hurried along the corridors.

Thankfully, Ginny somewhat gave up on the boy talk with Demelza. Demelza was grateful for that, because it allowed for her and Ginny to talk about other things, a nice thing since she didn't speak very much with their roommates. Vicky Frobisher was kind, but she was absorbed in her various clubs. Demelza knew Vicky had tried out for Quidditch before and, like Demelza, put it last on her list of priorities, but Vicky put nearly everything else last on her list, too, so it was hard to be friends with her. Likewise, their two other roommates had better things to do than make friends within their House.

Still, for all that Ginny said nothing, Demelza had to wonder. Even Jimmy had stopped hitting on her, it seemed. And even Ritchie had stopped bugging her about Jimmy.

All in all, things weren't too bad, she supposed. Classes carried on as usual—Jimmy whined at lunchtime about messing up his potion in class and Ritchie zoned out during Transfiguration and Ginny doodled "Ginevra Molly Potter" in her History of Magic notes—and practices were just the same—Ginny and Harry doing fabulously and the others making it by all right. Things were…back to normal. In fact, about a week passed, and Demelza had almost forgotten about Ginny butting into her "love life." Another week flew by, and Demelza dutifully split her time between getting a head start on studying for her O.W.L.s and working on her Chasing skills.

So she wasn't expecting the taboo topic to rear its ugly head again.

In a way, it didn't. All that happened was that Ritchie approached her towards the beginning of practice on a rainy Thursday afternoon. He flew up to her as she hovered high above the hoops, and he smiled even in the rain. She didn't get that, how he could always smile.

"Looking like a drowned rat, I see," Ritchie joked.

"We look the same. We're all out in this rain," Demelza pointed out.

His expression faltered a second, but then he recovered. "Right, right. Say—"

"Ritchie, should you really be chatting?" She motioned to Harry, who was busy groaning at Ron's "skills." "Harry really is trying to keep us in shape."

"I know, I know," Ritchie rushed. "But—I've got an idea." He came up some more so that he hovered eye-to-eye with her.

She'd never noticed before, but Ritchie had really girly eyelashes. Like, really. Even in the rain, his hair was frizzier than hers, too, and he had a very feminine mouth. Actually, she realized, he was rather pretty. The thought made her self-conscious and feel as though she were a boy before him.

"For every Bludger that Jimmy and I hit through the hoops—"

Demelza snapped back to reality. "What? Why would you even do that? Bludgers don't go through—"

He groaned and rolled his eyes, but she stopped. "For every Bludger we hit through the hoops, I get a minute of your time. What do you say?" Ritchie eyed her expectantly.

Hmm. Demelza supposed it wasn't all that bad. No harm could come of it, probably… She held out her hand, and they shook on it. "Fine. Deal."

His face lit up, and she smirked just slightly to herself. She didn't mind the occasional bet.

Practice felt more like waiting around for something to happen. Ginny, Demelza, and Dean tossed the Quaffle around while Harry reenacted some of Oliver Wood's best tactics for Ron hopefully to imitate. Jimmy and Ritchie practiced their swings, and Jimmy got caught in the side of the head by one of the Bludgers. He fell from his broom, but the third year was all right and refused to see Madam Pomfrey anyway.

Demelza wondered when Ritchie and Jimmy were going to start the bet, and, when she saw Ritchie aim for the tallest hoop, she broke away from Ginny and Dean and flew up and up. When the Bludger tried passing through the hoop, she hit it back with the tail of her broom, and Ritchie gaped at her.

"Well," she shouted, "you never said anything about me making it easy for you, did you?"

That grin of his returned, and he tried harder. He worked well with Jimmy, and Demelza finally saw that they'd probably been trying their hardest since their last match, for they'd improved the most on the team. Ritchie got one in on the shortest post, and then Jimmy got two through the medium-sized one. Demelza almost blocked one for every one the boys got in, but flying around like a Keeper drained her faster than Chasing did, so it soon became clear that Ritchie would win the bet. By the time their little game was over, Ritchie and Jimmy had sent the Bludgers through the goalposts a total of twelve times, and Demelza had blocked an additional nine.

Harry ended practice early, either giving up on Ron or having someplace else to be. He flagged Demelza down, though. "You know, you wouldn't be a bad Keeper stand-in, if we ever needed one," he told her, and it was high praise coming from not the Boy-Who-Lived but their Captain who seemed to have a hard time focusing solely on Quidditch this year. It was nearly flattering.

Demelza wanted to head for the showers immediately, but Jimmy and Ritchie landed by her, and Ritchie slung an arm around her shoulders. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Demelza!" Ritchie whistled. "A bet's a bet, right?"

"Yes, but can't it wait until after—" the witch tried.

Ritchie held a finger up to her lips, ignoring what she'd said. He waved Jimmy on. "Hey, thanks, mate. We'll catch up in a bit."

"Yeah, I'll let Andrew or Jack know to cover you two in Herbology," Jimmy promised the older pair, and he went on ahead as though this were a natural occurrence.

Demelza twisted around and looked up at Ritchie. She pushed his hand away from her face. "All right, so you've got twelve minutes. But why did you want them so badly?"

Ritchie raised his eyebrows and took her hand, leading her to the stands where they could sit down and enjoy the view. "I thought it'd be nice for you to, well, break your routine."

Her cheeks grew warm. "There's nothing wrong with routine." After an odd beat, she added softly, "You've got eleven minutes left."

He chuckled. "I just wanted to talk with you, without pressure from anything going on around us."

She felt a little happy at the sentiment. At the same time… "While I appreciate the gesture, I've got to say you've got poor timing. We'll be late to class."

"I know." He stared at her for a while, and it made her uncomfortable enough that she looked away. "But it's nice to slow down every once in a while and think about the things you usually don't."

It was then that she remembered the nagging he and their friends had done the past few weeks, and she was glad she hadn't really bet her spot on the team that Ginny was wrong. Plainly, Ritchie was leading up to asking her out. "Eight m-minutes," she stammered.

Ritchie shrugged. "Eight, twelve, two—any time at all is fine with me. Hey, what would you say is most important to you here?"

"School, food, and Quidditch," Demelza informed him just as she had informed her best mate weeks ago—but, of course, Ginny had flipped out.

Ritchie instead grinned that erasable grin. "Yeah, we all know boys aren't on your priorities."

She blushed and sent him a little glare. "No, they're not."

"Good. Because I'd like to be the only one on your list."

Crimson from the neck up, Demelza opened her mouth to speak, but Ritchie held up a finger to her lips again.

"Ah, ah, ah—I've still got about six minutes left." He leaned forward a little.

"Five," she breathed before his lips met hers, but, as he leaned into her and their mouths moved together like a Quidditch player catching the perfect winds for flying, she felt inclined to give him that extra minute.

When they finally broke apart, Ritchie cradled her head in his hands. "Go to Hogsmeade with me when the time comes," he mumbled, his words a gentle air kiss across her nose.

"I can't believe you really asked me out. Godric, Ginny was right…"

"No, I'm not asking, Dem. I'm just politely ordering."

She could feel his smile against her cheeks despite her eyes being closed. Perhaps it was all right to let love enter her priorities. "Well, it's a 'yes' either way."

"That's great!"

"But first things first—you've got two minutes left, Coote, and I expect you to use them."

"Sure thing, Robins," he whispered, and he kissed her once more.

:D Well, I originally began this almost a year ago (May 2012) and had the first five pages done, but I got stuck in trying to finish it. Lo and behold, a January evening a year later, I finally figured them out. That was mainly thanks to Ritchie's charm. -w- So thanks, Ritchie Coote! XDDD I mean, I usually ship Demi in femslash, but now I think that my het Demi OTP is DemiRitchie… I almost want to continue this, but I also like how this ended… It's a little different, a little more straight-laced than I usually write her, so it was a breath of fresh air. :3

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

2017 note: *lol* I agree with p much all of what I said in my 2013 A/N. I LOVE Demi in femslash, but I also adore her with Ritchie, so much so that they're a part of my overall headcanon, and I actually consider this to be a Maydayverse fic. =w= Ahhhh, I need to write them when they're older…! X3 And whoops. I had to revisit this because I mistakenly had Jimmy in their year when he's in fact younger… ._.

#hp #harry potter #demiritchie #demelza robins #ritchie coote #<5000 #romance #fluff #maydayverse #rated: PG #trio era #3rd POV

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imagitory · 7 years ago

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Harry Potter and the Lack of Lamb Sauce has been updated! In this installment, we get to see Ron and Ginny in that Quidditch match that didn’t appear in the books because Harry was stuck in detention. Here we’ll have focus for Ron and Ginny (of course), as well the rest of the Gryffindor team, Cho Chang and the Ravenclaw team, and our new Quidditch commentator!

Hope you enjoy!

#harry potter and the lack of lamb sauce #harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #bridget jaheem #demelza robbins #dean thomas #katie bell #jimmy peakes #ritchie coote #rose zeller #cho chang #quidditch #fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

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badooney7 · 6 years ago

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Apparently there was a kid named Ritchie Coote who was a beater that year Harry was Quidditch captain.

I have no recollection of Ritchie Coote.

I remember Demelza Robins. I remember Jimmy Peakes.

RITCHIE? COOTE?

#This feels like a Berenstain/Berenstein thing.#I got switched into a universe where Ritchie Coote is a (fictional) person.

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prsfphone · 3 years ago

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the webs we weave ii | d.m. x reader

word count: 2839

warnings: angst, fluff, smut, nsfw, penetrative sex, mentions of blood, violence (not sexual violence)

a/n: did i sneak a shatter me quote in here? yes and i’m not ashamed.

“if you’re going to try, go all the way. otherwise, don’t even start.”

the wind nipped at your cheeks this high up in the quidditch stands and you tugged your red and gold scarf higher, but it made very little difference. to your right, luna looked unperturbed in her giant lion’s hat—or was it a helmet? you weren’t entirely sure. on your left, neville looked just as cold as you, rubbing his hands together rapidly to create heat. in front of you, hermione was gnawing her lower lip like it was her job in between blowing into her cupped hands. you knew where her eyes were—on the tall, freckled keeper settled on his broom in front of the goalposts and intent on where his other teammates faced off the slytherin team while they waited for the whistle to blow.

you knew that’s where your eyes ought to be, too—bouncing anxiously between ron and harry, who floated higher than the rest of them, and ginny, an eager, vicious smile slashed across her pale face. but your eyes were rather intent on someone opposite harry, dressed in slytherin silver and green and you could only hope no one was watching you close enough to notice.

somewhere on the ground, the whistle blew, and the two teams flew into action. draco managed to dodge a swing by jimmy peakes only to get clocked by ritchie coote when he thought he was in the clear. you sucked in a sharp breath and neville said to you, eyes never leaving the pitch, “good game today.”

you couldn’t even bring yourself to nod—draco was zooming around cormac mclaggen, who was in for katie bell, and you could see where he was headed; harry had just realized as well, and was pushing his broom to the limits of speed, scarlet cloak snapping in the cold wind. a little gold, winged ball was lingering near the frosted grass of the pitch and just as draco passed mclaggen, when you expected him to dip the nose of his broom to the ground and push just as hard—harder—than harry, he shot back up, and with movements so quick you had trouble following them, and knocked mclaggen clean off his broom.

you gasped, but it went unnoticed—everyone in gryffindor had made similar sounds of dismay, while the slytherins opposite you cheered viciously. even nott, who was typically to be found slouched with some girl or other perched on his lap and not paying attention at all to the proceedings, was on his feet, cheeks red and hollering, cheering for draco with more enthusiasm than you had ever witnessed from him.

mclaggen landed half on his back, half on his side and draco was already landing on the pitch, tossing his broom aside and dragging mclaggen up by the scruff of his jersey. you couldn’t be sure, but you thought you could see draco’s lips moving and then—then, right before your incredulous eyes, he cocked back his arm and swung.

the game overhead had paused and you couldn’t hear the bone crack, but you were half-sure it had as blood spurted from mclaggen’s nose, flooding down his mouth and bloodying his teeth as he smiled.

“oh,” luna said dreamily, “look at that.” a side glance at you and neville. “you know, nargles often cause violent outbursts.”

“what are they doing?” hermione exclaimed.

“not like mclaggen doesn’t deserve a good punch,” neville shrugged and all you could do was look at him, wide-eyed.

draco had punched mclaggen again while the four of you had struggled to process the first hit and now he was staggering to his feet just as blaise was making to land. mclaggen managed to land a hit on draco, spinning out with the force of his own wind-up and draco staggering back. your heart was a rabid thing in your throat, beating so hard and fast you thought this must be a dream. this wasn’t real—could not possibly be. draco malfoy did not fight. not with fists—no, draco always opted to use his silver tongue to cut people down, but here he was, rushing stupid fucking mclaggen, taking him down into the grass as teachers hurried to the field.

but they were too late.

draco was straddling mclaggen, his fists flying at the other boy’s face, dark emerald cloak flying with his movements.

blaise was walking across the field, his mouth moving, and draco was still going strong on mclaggen when blaise wrapped his long arms around draco and began to pull him off. the gryffindor team had mostly sunk out of the skies and harry and ron were hurrying to mclaggen’s aide while both trying to keep ginny out of the fray. you knew how deeply both of the boys disliked mclaggen, but you also knew just how much they disliked draco, and the latter definitely outweighed the former.

with some colourful encouragement from blaise, crabbe and goyle helped him pry draco off of mclaggen, but he was flailing, a vicious expression on his face you had never seen before. your heart picked up speed, throwing itself again and again against the wall of your chest. by some stroke of luck, draco managed a final kick to mclaggen’s ribs before the three boys towed him away, heels dragging, kicking up dirt, teeth bared.

“i can’t believe this!” hermione was saying. “can you positively believe malfoy?” she shook her head, made a disgusted sort of sound at the back of her throat.

“holy shit,” neville breathed at the same time that luna replied, “that was a good match until all that blood.”

and all you could think was no, no, i can’t believe malfoy at all.

_______

by the time you returned from pacing the castle, everyone had gone to bed and the tower’s common room was empty but for the merry crackling of flames in the fireplace. you’d returned here with harry, ron, ginny, hermione and neville after the game was called off, but with the way harry and ron went on about malfoy, you couldn’t stand it—you’d gotten up and left.

you’d thought maybe the pacing would tire you out, would make your feet hurt enough to keep you from heading out in search of draco. but you couldn’t manage more than a few steps in the direction of the girls’ dormitories. a restlessness was in your bones, and with an irritated sigh, you turned back and went through the potrait hole once more.

your feet carried you quickly down to the dungeons where you crept through the common room, to the prefect dorms.

this was stupid, you chided yourself. just because you wanted to—needed to—see draco to ease the disquiet coursing through you didn’t mean draco wanted you to come checking on him. didn’t mean he wanted to see you at all, point blank.

purely selfish, you decided and knocked sharply on his door, once, twice, three times before he pulled it open with a deep scowl on his face. he was shirtless, with a shining, swelling cheekbone and busted lip and the sight of it made your heart stutter over a beat.

draco braced a hand against the door frame and stared, apathetic, down at you. “afraid i’m not in quite the right mood for a shag, darling.”

you crossed your arms over your chest and glowered back up at him. “shove off, draco. my life does not revolve around when i get to ride your dick.”

when he blinked, long and slow, eyes widened just slightly, you realized your slip-up. you never called him draco unless you were begging for something, and that only ever happened when there was some part of him between your legs.

when he didn’t speak, didn’t so much as twitch a muscle, you heaved an aggravated breath and ducked under his arm into his dorm. you marched straight to his desk, where you paused and rested a hand against the solid wood there, listening to the soft click of his door closing. his bed—usually pristine with the corners tucked in—was rumpled, and you half wondered if he’d up and walked out of the room, but no—there he was, the pale alabaster of him turned slightly gold in colour by the dim light of the candles burning around the room.

he sunk down on the edge of his bed, bowing his head in his hands. “why are you here?”

you moved slowly to stand in front of him, suddenly shy. your hands tangled in front of you. “maybe i wanted to see you,” your voice was scarcely louder than a whisper but he lifted his head and leveled those pale eyes on you all the same.

he barked a harsh laugh. “well, you’ve seen me, darling. and i’m sure you saw me on the pitch. what else do you want to fucking see?”

wordlessly, you wedged yourself in between his spread legs, and took his head in your hands, one on either cheek, and tipped his head back to examine the damage. “how much detention did snape give you?”

“three weeks.”

you tilted his head, lifted a hand to trace lightly across the bruise developing on his cheekbone. “was it worth it?” next, you moved to his hands, reaching for the right first, asessing the split knuckles and the red, broken, angry skin around the bones.

he was watching you intently. “yes,” he replied softly, firmly.

your eyes flicked back to his, holding them. “do i get to know why you beat the piss out of mclaggen, then?”

he sighed, bone-deep, weary, and wrapped his hands around each of your wrists, as if intending to pull you away from touching him, but deciding not to, and hanging on anyways. “he asked if he could have a turn on you after the game.”

you opened and closed your mouth, trying to think up the right words, but none came and so you blurted the first thing that had come to mind at his answer: “mclaggen knows about us?”

draco chuckled, again that harsh, mirthless sound. “apparently, every bloody git in this castle knows.”

you stood between his legs silently for long minutes after that, piecing together his words tonight. was it worth it? and the unequivocal, unwavering answer of yes. you ran your fingers through his mussed hair, down the line of his jaw, slightly prickly and in need of a shave, across the sweep of his full bottom lip. you were afraid to let the rising hope crest. draco often did things that made little sense to you, and there was a good possibility this would be one of them but—

“so you threw one of the biggest games of the year because someone implied they wanted to have sex with me? that’s—”

his eyes narrowed. “completely reasonable. you’re…you’re mine, and as long as you feel the same, there are no lines i won’t cross.”

“what makes you think i feel the same way?” you asked softly and he jerked like you’d burned him with a hot poker and you realized instantly your mistake.

“so you’ve been fucking me for fun i take it?” he sneered, beginning to push you away. you refused to budge, holding your place stubbornly. “my mistake, then—”

“oh, shut up!” you exploded and then brought your mouth down on his. he was still angry—you could feel it in the pressure of his mouth against yours, the way he gripped at you, pulled you down into his lap. his fingers were bruising and you tugged on his hair as he began rocking you across his hardening cock through his pants.

when you gasped at the friction he swallowed the sound greedily and you broke away long enough to mutter a silencio charm, his mouth moving to your cheeks, your jaw, that place just behind your ear.

“not just for fun, then?” he asked between kisses.

a shake of your head. “no,” you breathed. “well, maybe a little.”

he laughed, a hoarse sound as you began grinding down on him as he rocked you. you weren’t sure exactly how it all happened, but you were quickly divested of your sweater and oxford and his mouth was on your tits, sucking, biting, lapping, lavishing attention. your nails dug into his shoulders and he shuddered. warmth was blooming in your stomach, spreading up your chest and dusting your cheeks a vivid pink and draco slipped a hand up under the folds of your skirt, rubbing heavy circles on your clit through the soaked cotton of your panties. a desperate noise bubbled up and out of your throat and his hips jerked involuntarily up into you and it was just enough of everything all at once to send you careening into your orgasm. broken moans fell from your parted lips and his hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs, standing up and laying you out on the bed as you wondered, hazily, if you’d left a mess on his pants.

draco’s breathing seemed just as heavy as yours and he made quick work of his pants, and suddenly his hands were on the waistband of your skirt, and he was telling you, “lift your hips for me, darling.”

you obeyed and he shucked off the garments leaving you bare but for your knee socks.

he wasted little time after that; he lifted your legs to rest over his shoulders as he sunk into you slowly, inch by inch by inch. “fuck,” he swore, “fuck, you’re so wet, darling.”

you whimpered in response and tried to urge him to get going by bucking your hips up but he only watched you beneath him with interest. the slow in and out of his cock into you was maddening and you tangled your hands in your own hair, desperate for this, exactly this, for something faster, harder, something you couldn’t put a name to.

his hips snapped up into you just slightly different, and he hit that sublime spot in you that apparently only he could find and you gasped jaggedly. “oh my god,” you were asking for something, pleading for mercy as he kept hitting it again and again and again. “draco—draco,” you grabbed at his forearm and he laughed, a taunting instrumental to your desperate lyrics. you didn’t think you’d ever heard him laugh so much as he had tonight.

he shifted your hips higher and you cried out at the new angle. “this is mine, isn’t it?” he asked. “your cunt is all mine, yeah?”

“yes,” you nodded vehemently, all tied up in the strings of bliss he was weaving in you, “it’s all yours. everything.”

he pressed a kiss, so soft, so gentle and sweet, so at odds with his pace, with what you two were doing, against your inner thigh. “are you going to come for me, darling? i can feel you, squeezing me, milking my cock.”

“oh—yes, don’t stop. i swear i’ll kill you if you do—” your release was right there, so close it was a palpable thing in the air, swirling around you.

“you want me to come in you again? make a mess of this pretty little cunt? maybe i’ll let you leave like that—my come dripping down your thighs, and then no one would even dare to wonder who you belonged to.”

his words, filthy and spoken in his low timbre, sent you careening, shaking, moaning. draco folded you up further as he lost his attentive rhythm and his mouth found your neck, biting, bruising, at the same time his release found him. he shuddered and shook with the force of it and his hands released your legs, found your face. he brushed stray strands of hair off your sticky, cooling skin and kissed you, long and languid on the mouth. he’d split his knuckles open again and blood was smeared across his pale skin, on various parts of you.

“i’m going to stain your sheets,” you told him after a while, his come seeping out of you slowly.

he untangled himself and disappeared into his small ensuite, returning with a damp washcloth. after he’d cleaned you quietly, patiently, like he didn’t mind, he helped you get dressed, smoothing back your hair when putting on your sweater made it go everywhere. “i’ll walk you to the tower,” he said.

you began to shake your head. “if we get caught you’ll get more detention—”

he shrugged, unconcerned. “what’s another week, darling?”

when the two of you stopped at the bottom of the staircase to the tower, you grabbed his hands again, assessing the damage. he’d cleaned up the blood when he’d cleaned you, but the cuts still looked fresh and sore and you scowled up at him. “as nice as it is to know that you’re not completely useless without a wand, no more of this shit,” you warned him.

he chuckled softly. “of course not, darling,” and with a wink, he slunk back into the darkness of the stone corridors, back to the dungeons.

#harry potter #harry potter smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy one shot

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ravenclawtower2911 · 3 years ago

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Harry Potter characters that are POC because i said so

(This list does not include characters that are canonically poc)

Oliver Wood - Latino

Adrian Pucey - Latino

Alicia Spinnet - Black + Indian

Geoffrey Hooper - Black

Summers - Native American

Tracy Davis - Black

Harry Potter - South Asian

Hermione Granger - Black + Jewish

Justin Finch Fletchly - Black

Leanne - Japanese

Lisa Turpin - Black + White

Michael Corner - Indian + White

Terry Boot - Black + White

Demelza Robins - Filipina

Cadwallader - South Korean

Ritchie Coote - Black + Filipino

Romilda Vane - Afro-Latina

Andrew Kirke - Black

Emma Dobbs - Black

Hestia Jones - Black

Pomona Sprout - Black

Aurora Sinistra - Black

#poc harry potter #brown harry potter #black hermione granger #hogwarts students #hogwarts #harry potter #headcanons #hp #poc

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killyourheroes-rp · 3 years ago

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Well we were going to wait a little longer, but we’re just so excited we’re going to go ahead and release our canon list now! Please note that this canon list was created by Kill Your Heroes staff and is only to be used on our site.

▼ - muggleborn ◄ - halfblood ► - pureblood ▲ - tainted * indicates a canon family note that must be followed. ** indicates a canon family note created by the first player in that family.

ABBOTT Joseph Abbott + Patricia (nee Stimpson) ◄ -- -- Abbott, thirty six ◄ -- -- Abbott, thirty three ◄ -- -- Abbott, twenty-nine ◄ -- -- Abbott, twenty-six ABERCROMBIE Euan Abercrombie + Lauren (nee Fitch) ◄ -- -- Abercrombie, thirty ◄ -- -- Abercrombie, twenty-four ◄ -- -- Abercrombie, twenty-four ◄ -- -- Abercrombie, twenty-two * the twenty-four year olds are twins. ACKERLY Stewart Ackerly + Natalie (nee McDonald) ◄ -- -- Ackerly, twenty-eight ◄ -- -- Ackerly, twenty-seven ◄ -- -- Ackerly, twenty-three AVERY Mauricius Avery + Hestia (nee Carrow) ► -- -- Avery, twenty-seven ► -- -- Avery, twenty-three BADDOCK Malcolm Baddock + Laura (nee Madley) ◄ -- -- Baddock, thirty one ◄ -- -- Baddock, thirty BARBARY Heathcote Barbary + Mandy (nee Brocklehurst) ◄ -- -- Barbary, thirty four ◄ -- -- Barbary, thirty two ◄ -- -- Barbary, twenty-six ◄ -- -- Barbary, twenty-one BELBY Marcus Belby + Tracey (nee Davis) ◄ -- -- Belby, thirty one ◄ -- -- Belby, thirty ◄ -- -- Belby, twenty-three BOLE Lucian Bole + Rebecca (nee Hoffman) ◄ -- -- Bole, thirty ◄ -- -- Bole, twenty-nine BOOT Terry Boot + Sally (nee Smith) ◄ -- -- Boot, thirty two ◄ -- -- Boot, twenty-seven ◄ -- -- Boot, twenty-five BONES-HOPKINS Wayne Hopkins + Susan Bones ◄ -- -- Bones-Hopkins, twenty-eight ◄ -- -- Bones-Hopkins, twenty-five ◄ -- -- Bones-Hopkins, twenty-two BOTT Cyprien Bott + Florence (nee Slughorn) ► -- -- Bott, forty ► -- -- Bott, thirty eight ► -- -- Bott, thirty four ► -- -- Bott, thirty one BURKE Icarus Burke + Rosetta (nee Borgin) ► -- -- Burke, thirty six ► -- -- Burke, twenty-eight ► -- -- Burke, twenty-three CARMICHAEL Eddie Carmichael + Claire (nee Trotwood) ◄ -- -- Carmichael, thirty one ◄ -- -- Carmichael, thirty CAULDWELL Owen Cauldwell + Elise (nee Montague) ◄ -- -- Cauldwell, thirty one ◄ -- -- Cauldwell, twenty-eight CHAPMAN Elias Chapman + Marissa (nee Stewart) ▼ -- -- Chapman, thirty one ▼ -- -- Chapman, twenty-nine ▼ -- -- Chapman, twenty-eight COOTE Ritchie Coote + Rose (nee Zeller) ◄ -- -- Coote, twenty-nine ◄ -- -- Coote, twenty-seven ◄ -- -- Coote, twenty-five * this family is (half) black. CORNER Michael Corner + Parvati (nee Patil) ◄ -- -- Corner, twenty-six ◄ -- -- Corner, twenty-five ◄ -- -- Corner, twenty-two ◄ -- -- Corner, twenty-two * this family is half indian. * the youngest two children are twins.

CORNFOOT Stephen Cornfoot + Orla (nee Quirke) ◄ -- -- Cornfoot, thirty ◄ -- -- Cornfoot, twenty-three CREEVEY Dennis Creevey + Gabrielle (nee Delacour) ▲ -- -- Creevey, twenty-five ▲ -- -- Creevey, twenty-three * this family is one-eighth veela through gabrielle, a quarter veela. CRUMB Gideon Crumb + Juno (nee Santini) ◄ -- -- Crumb, thirty eight ◄ -- -- Crumb, thirty three ◄ -- -- Crumb, twenty-six DAVIES Chester Davies + Jane (nee Court) ◄ -- -- Davies, thirty five DAVIES Roger Davies + Martha (nee Murphy) ◄ -- -- Davies, twenty-five ◄ -- -- Davies, twenty-four ◄ -- -- Davies, twenty-one DUKE Kirley Duke + Lisette (nee Hollingberry) ◄ -- -- Duke, thirty four ◄ -- -- Duke, thirty one DURSLEY Dudley Dursley + Azalea (nee Scott) ▼ -- -- Dursley, twenty-six * this family is half black. EDGECOMBE-CHANG Marietta Edgecombe + Cho Chang ◄ -- -- Edgecombe-Chang, twenty-six ◄ -- -- Edgecombe-Chang, twenty-five ◄ -- -- Edgecombe-Chang, twenty-four ◄ -- -- Edgecombe-Chang, twenty-three ◄ -- -- Edgecombe-Chang, twenty-two * all children in this family are adopted. ENTWHISTLE Kevin Entwhistle + Sally-Anne (nee Perks) ◄ -- -- Entwhistle, twenty-five

FAWLEY Grim Fawley + Megan (nee Jones) ◄ -- -- Fawley, twenty-four ◄ -- -- Fawley, twenty-one ◄ -- -- Fawley, twenty FINCH-FLETCHLEY Justin Finch-Fletchley + Sue (nee Li) ◄ -- -- Finch-Fletchley, twenty-three * this family is half chinese. FLETCHER Mundugus Fletcher + Multiple Women ► -- -- Fletcher, thirty two ► -- -- Fletcher, twenty-nine ► -- -- Fletcher, twenty-six ► -- -- Fletcher, twenty-four * all children in this family are half-siblings. FLINT Marcus Flint + Alice (nee Selwyn) ► -- -- Flint, twenty-seven ► -- -- Flint, twenty-five ► -- -- Flint, twenty-four ► -- -- Flint, twenty-one FORTESCUE Fabian Fortescue + Violet (nee Montgomery) ◄ -- -- Fortescue, thirty two ◄ -- -- Fortescue, thirty ◄ -- -- Fortescue, twenty-eight ◄ -- -- Fortescue, twenty-five FUDGE Cornelius Fudge II + Adria (nee Pike) ◄ -- -- Fudge, forty ◄ -- -- Fudge, thirty seven ◄ -- -- Fudge, thirty four ◄ -- -- Fudge, thirty two GOLDSTEIN Anthony Goldstein + Emma (nee Vane) ◄ -- -- Goldstein, thirty one ◄ -- -- Goldstein, twenty-five ◄ -- -- Goldstein, twenty-four * this family is jewish. GOYLE Gregory Goyle + Flora (nee Carrow) ► -- -- Goyle, twenty-nine ► -- -- Goyle, twenty-eight ► -- -- Goyle, twenty-seven GRAVES Merton Graves + Cora (nee Pinkstone) ◄ -- -- Graves, forty ◄ -- -- Graves, thirty eight GREGORoVITCH Gedeon Gregorovitch + Ildiko (nee Barta) ► -- -- Gregorovitch, 46 ► -- -- Gregorovitch, 44 ► -- -- Gregorovitch, 40 GREYBACK Wulfric Greyback + Multiple Women ▲ -- -- Greyback, thirty seven ▲ -- -- Greyback, thirty six ▲ -- -- Greyback, twenty-eight ▲ -- -- Greyback, twenty-seven ▲ -- -- Greyback, twenty-one ▲ -- -- Greyback, nineteen * wulfric is the son of fenrir greyback. * all children in this family are half-siblings. JENKINS Alexander Jenkins + Jennifer (nee Morgan) ▼ -- -- Jenkins, thirty two ▼ -- -- Jenkins, thirty ▼ -- -- Jenkins, twenty-nine ▼ -- -- Jenkins, twenty-seven JORDAN Lee Jordan + Allison (nee Harper) ◄ -- -- Jordan, twenty-nine ◄ -- -- Jordan, twenty-eight * this family is (half) black. KAMA Clément Kama + Marie-Ange (nee Stuart) ► -- -- Kama, forty KARKAROFF Andrei Karkaroff + Magda (nee Romanova) ◄ -- -- Karkaroff, twenty-eight ◄ -- -- Karkaroff, twenty-five KRUM Viktor Krum + Samantha (nee Whitehouse) ◄ -- -- Krum, twenty-seven ◄ -- -- Krum, twenty-five ◄ -- -- Krum, twenty-four LESTRANGE Cyrus Lestrange + Melinda (nee Nott) ► -- -- Lestrange, thirty ► -- -- Lestrange, thirty ► -- -- Lestrange, twenty-eight * cyrus is the son of rabastan lestrange. * the oldest two children are twins. LONGBOTTOM Neville Longbottom + Hannah (nee Abbott) ◄ -- -- Longbottom, twenty-eight ◄ -- -- Longbottom, twenty-six ◄ -- -- Longbottom, twenty-four LUPIN Remus Lupin + Nymphadora (nee Tonks) ▲ Edward Remus Lupin, thirty four MACDOUGAL Morag MacDougal + Lavender (nee Brown) ◄ -- -- MacDougal, twenty-six MACMILLAN (1) Ernest Macmillan + Amanda (nee Travers) ► -- -- Macmillan, thirty two ► -- -- Macmillan, thirty * Ernest and Amanda are divorced. MACMILLAN (2) Ernest Macmillan + Rochelle (nee Chamberlain) ◄ -- -- Macmillan, twenty-eight ◄ -- -- Macmillan, twenty-six ◄ -- -- Macmillan, twenty-two * Ernest and Rochelle are divorced. MALFOY Draco Malfoy + Astoria (nee Greengrass) ► Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, twenty-six

MALONE Roger Malone + Isobel (nee MacDougal) ◄ -- -- Malone, twenty-six ◄ -- -- Malone, twenty-four ◄ -- -- Malone, twenty-three MCLAGGEN Cormac McLaggen + Lily (nee Moon) ◄ -- -- McLaggen, thirty ◄ -- -- McLaggen, twenty-eight ◄ -- -- McLaggen, twenty-seven * this family is korean. NOTT Theodore Nott + Millicent (nee Bulstrode) ► -- -- Nott, twenty-nine ► -- -- Nott, twenty-seven ► -- -- Nott, twenty-five ► -- -- Nott, twenty-four OGDEN Kieran Ogden + Alys (nee Simpson) ◄ -- -- Ogden, thirty five ◄ -- -- Ogden, thirty OLLIVANDER Graham Ollivander + Kellah (nee Shacklebolt) ► -- -- Ollivander, twenty-nine ► -- -- Ollivander, twenty-nine ► -- -- Ollivander, twenty-eight * this family is (half) black. * this family has a history of names starting with the letter g. PARKINSON Pansy Parkinson + Daphne (nee Greengrass) ► -- -- Parkinson, age PEAKES Jimmy Peakes + Eleanor (nee Branstone) ◄ -- -- Peakes, twenty-two ◄ -- -- Peakes, twenty POTTER Harry Potter + Ginevra (nee Weasley) ◄ James Sirius Potter, twenty-seven ◄ Albus Severus Potter, twenty-six ◄ Lily Luna Potter, twenty-four PRITCHARD Graham Pritchard + Emma (nee Dobbs) ◄ -- -- Pritchard, twenty-seven ◄ -- -- Pritchard, twenty-five ◄ -- -- Pritchard, twenty-three ◄ -- -- Pritchard, twenty-one PUCEY Adrian Pucey + Lisa (nee Turpin) ◄ -- -- Pucey, thirty two ◄ -- -- Pucey, thirty one RIVERS Oliver Rivers + Padma (nee Patil) ◄ -- -- Rivers, twenty-five ◄ -- -- Rivers, twenty-three * this family is (half) indian. ROSIER Caliban Rosier + Portia (nee Shafiq) ► -- -- Rosier, thirty four ► -- -- Rosier, thirty three ► -- -- Rosier, thirty ROWLE Emeric Rowle + Leanne (nee Travers) ► -- -- Rowle, twenty-nine ► -- -- Rowle, twenty-seven RUNCORN Derek Runcorn + Romilda (nee Vane) ◄ -- -- Runcorn, twenty-eight ◄ -- -- Runcorn, twenty-six ◄ -- -- Runcorn, twenty-two SCAMANDER Rolf Scamander + Luna (nee Lovegood) ◄ Lorcan --- Scamander, twenty-four ◄ Lysander --- Scamander, twenty-four * the children are twins. SHACKLEBOLT Caius Shacklebolt + Idris (nee Kempley) ► -- -- Shacklebolt, twenty-three ► -- -- Shacklebolt, twenty ► -- -- Shacklebolt, eighteen * this family is black. SHAFIQ Cicero Shafiq + Pandora (nee Ogden) ► -- -- Shafiq, thirty seven ► -- -- Shafiq, thirty four SMITH Zacharias Smith + Millie (nee Barker) ◄ -- -- Smith, thirty one THOMAS-FINNIGAN Dean Thomas + Seamus Finnigan ◄ -- -- Thomas-Finnigan, twenty-seven ◄ -- -- Thomas-Finnigan, twenty-six ◄ -- -- Thomas-Finnigan, twenty-four * all children in this family are adopted. THRUSTON Orsino Thruston + Penelope (nee Clearwater) ◄ -- -- Thruston, thirty three TOWLER Kenneth Towler + Hilda (nee Beamish) ◄ -- -- Towler, thirty ◄ -- -- Towler, twenty-nine TREMLETT Donaghan Tremlett + Pamela (nee Chambers) ◄ -- -- Tremlett, thirty eight TUCKETT James Tucket II + Sabrina (nee Mannering) ◄ -- -- Tuckett, twenty-two ◄ -- -- Tuckett, twenty-one ◄ -- -- Tuckett, nineteen WAGTAIL Myron Wagtail + Carly (nee Redfern) ◄ -- -- Wagtail, twenty-nine ◄ -- -- Wagtail, twenty-eight WARRINGTON Cassius Warrington + Anita (nee Diggs) ◄ -- -- Warrington, twenty-nine ◄ -- -- Warrington, twenty-three ◄ -- -- Warrington, twenty-one WEASLEY William Weasley + Fleur (nee Delacour) ▲ Victoire --- Weasley, thirty two ▲ Dominique --- Weasley, twenty-eight ▲ Louis --- Weasley, twenty-five * this family is one-eighth veela through fleur, a quarter veela. WEASLEY Percy Weasley + Audrey (nee Chen) ► Molly --- Weasley, thirty ► Lucy --- Weasley, twenty-five * this family is half chinese. WEASLEY George Weasley + Angelina (nee Johnson) ► Fred --- Weasley, twenty-seven ► Roxanne --- Weasley, twenty-four * this family is half black. WEASLEY Ronald Weasley + Hermione (nee Granger) ◄ Rose --- Weasley, twenty-six ◄ Hugo --- Weasley, twenty-four WHITBY Kevin Whitby + Cassandra (nee Purcell) ◄ -- -- Whitby, twenty-two WINGTRINGHAM Herman Wintringham + Rosalind (nee Evercreech) ◄ -- -- Wintringham, thirty two ◄ -- -- Wintringham, thirty WOLPERT Nigel Wolpert + Hestia (nee Punnet) ◄ -- -- Wolpert, twenty-nine ◄ -- -- Wolpert, twenty-two ◄ -- -- Wolpert, nineteen WOOD Oliver Wood + Katie (nee Bell) ◄ -- -- Wood, twenty-six ◄ -- -- Wood, twenty-six ◄ -- -- Wood, twenty-three* the twenty-six year olds are identical twins. YAXLEY Cyrus Yaxley + Sophie (nee Roper) ► -- -- Yaxley, twenty-eight ► -- -- Yaxley, twenty-three ► -- -- Yaxley, twenty ZABINI Blaise Zabini + Hypatia (nee Travers) ► -- -- Zabini, twenty-eight ► -- -- Zabini, twenty-six * this family is (half) black. ZONKO Wilbert Zonko + Nancy (nee Reed) ◄ -- -- Zonko, thirty nine ◄ -- -- Zonko, thirty six ◄ -- -- Zonko, thirty one

#kill your heroes #kill your heroes rp #kyhrp #harry potter site buzz #harry potter next generation #hp site buzz #hp next gen #jcink premium #jcink #jcink site buzz #jcink rp #canon list #updates #preview

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seriouslysam8 · 9 months ago

Note

Endgame pairings mega theory(Aside from Hinny, Romelza, Blackinnon, Drastoria, Bleur, and Remadora):

Niamh/Ritchie Coote

Percy/Winky

Beatrice Haywood/Cepheus

Snape/Hermione/Lockhart/Rita

Luna/Dudley

Lavender/George

Lee/Millicent

Ernie/Zacharias

Daphne/Alicia

Pansy/Dobby

Gemma and Neville will die.

Lmfao! I totally thought this was going to be serious at first!!

I am intrigued by a Luna/Dudley. Ernie/Zacharias just make sense in my mind. Don’t ask me why.

I have to ask… who the fuck is Beatrice Haywood??

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breaniebree · 3 years ago

Note

Who all is on the gryffindoor quidditch team again?

Hi, Anon!

Harry Potter — Seeker/Captain

Ginny Weasley — Chaser

Ron Weasley — Keeper

Demelza Robbins — Chaser

Jimmy Peakes — Beater

Ritchie Cootes — Beater

Jack Wolf — Chaser

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ao3feed-harrydraco · 4 years ago

Link

by WanderingWizard

Harry finally realized; he was excited for the Quidditch showers to be built.

Words: 2055, Chapters: 1/10, Language: English

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Jimmy Peakes, Ritchie Coote, Draco Malfoy

Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Additional Tags: Coming Out, Showers, Sexual Content, Secret Relationship, First Time, Size Kink, Blow Jobs, Shower Sex, Loss of Virginity, Fluff and Humor, Teen Angst, Quidditch

#ao3feed #fanfic #drarry #harry/draco #ao3feed-harrydraco #ao3

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camelliacats · 3 years ago

Text

Counting Backwards (111-120/∞)

100-word drabbles for a range of ships. *Requests always welcome! Repeats allowed~*

Chapters 111-120: [FFN] [AO3] | ← → | start from the beginning

Pairings/Characters: Scorpius Malfoy/Percy Weasley, Rose Weasley/Lavender Brown, Theodore Nott/Terry Boot, Megan Jones/Leanne, Demelza Robins/Ritchie Coote, Alice Longbottom/Lucius Malfoy, Dean Thomas/Astoria Greengrass, Lavender/Romilda Vane, Marge Dursley/Amos Diggory, & Scabior/Draco Malfoy

Rating: K - T

Words: 1,000 collectively

Additional info: romance, slash, femslash, cross gen, angst, hurt/comfort, violence (implied/referenced), Marauder era, Harry's era, Next Gen era, 2nd person POV, 3rd person POV

Summary: Because, actually, destruction is the most beautiful thing of all… These are the countdowns until everything falls apart. | Various pairings, eras, ratings, etc. Includes het, slash, femslash, cross-gen, next-gen, but nothing too bad. Read it all or only what you like!

111: ScorpiusPercy

Scorpius liked to think Percy had matured by the time the Malfoy heir entered his life, wrapping up his Auror training and haunting Percy's office in his free time. After all, it didn't take long for Percy to figure out Scorpius' intentions, and the divorcé was receptive to friendly lunch dates…and friendly touches…and friendly snogs.

"Who knew divorce was the answer to happiness?" he jested one day in Scorpius' arms, face red and happy.

But his words stung. Clearly Percy had forgotten divorce plagued Scorpius' parents and grandparents.

Clearly Percy still had some maturing to do. By himself.

112: RoseLavender

Everyone wants to compare you to your mother, but, here you are, repeating your father's mistakes.

You don't think of being with Lavender as a mistake. You fell for her—truly, you did; she wasn't the first available witch to snog upon leaving Hogwarts, embracing your love of witches—and you worked hard to convince her that this isn't a ploy, that this is real, that Rose Weasley is her own person and doesn't want the life laid out for her by her parents.

But if this love is real, then why is the name "Astoria" on your lips still?

113: TheoTerry

As the Slytherins aged and Draco drew a Dark destiny for himself, Theodore wandered outside his House for companionship on his level. The quickest, shrewdest tongue (that wasn't Theo's) belonged to Ravenclaw's Boot.

Initially, Terry thought it some long game. "I mean, won't you be missed from your crowd if you're with me all the time?"

Theodore leaned in close, wondering how sharp that tongue tasted. "They're not my crowd," he corrected.

"Maybe," Terry conceded, "but your father—"

Theodore bristled at the insinuation that he might follow in that bastard's footsteps. So he backed off Terry.

A sharp tongue, indeed.

114: MeganLeanne

After Hogwarts, things were supposed to be different. That's what Megan thought, at least.

"Oh, you made plans for us on Saturday?" Leanne remarked when she came home from visiting Hannah at the pub. She tapped the date on the calendar. "Let me double-check that Katie doesn't have a game then. I could've sworn it was a practice match, but still."

Megan had spent two years pining for, three years loving, and another one living with Leanne. Yet the presence of Katie Bell still loomed large in their lives.

(Not for long, if this breakup proceeded on Saturday as planned.)

115: DemelzaRitchie

"It will heal." "You will fly again." "Players recover from the worst all the time."

Demelza runs out of things to say after the second match she and Ritchie play together, finally playing on a professional team. Falmouth seemed like an easy choice; yes, Ginny makes playing for Holyhead look like a blast, but Falmouth's the only team that made Ritchie an offer, so Falmouth for Demelza, too. They do say to follow your heart.

But Bludgers barreling Ritchie off his broom and into brambles shatters his chances of a career when he doesn't recover properly. It shatters them, too.

116: AliceLucius

"The war's over. Your comrades are gone," Alice said. She sipped her tea. There was no need for violence or wands in a public setting. She knew he'd rather save face.

"Not every last one was a comrade," Lucius corrected. He squinted at how she calmly reclined in her café chair. "…we each have our families. But, Alice, please know—the war isn't over, not by a long shot."

Alice sat up a little straighter. "Lucius, if this is a trap—"

He stood to leave but leaned in close, his words urgent, concerned whispers. "Be warned: They're coming for you."

117: DeanAstoria

She found him after Ginny in sixth year. She offered a kind word and conjured up a flower.

Astoria found him again after the final battle. After the previous night and day spent exhausting their magic, sitting with Dean was better than words and flowers.

But then he found her, after Seamus saw the announcement in the paper. Dean didn't ask Astoria about the engagement or how she felt about taking the Malfoy name in a year's time, even though she was half a year out of school by then.

They were good at comforting each other, and nothing more.

118: LavenderRomilda

She's a sexy witch. No one blames you for trying out the other team. (If someone does, give them a blasting—you're Lavender fucking Brown, for Godric's sake!)

Romilda's ace at potions, criminally so, and dreams of opening up a shop someday. "I'll use magic my mum taught me and support myself and my partner," she claims. How bold!

Yet it makes you wonder. Are you just a witch looking to be pampered and taken care of (as everyone suspects)? Greyback maimed you, yes, but you're not an invalid in St. Mungo's.

But what if Romilda sees you that way?

119: MargeAmos

Marge didn't agree with Vernon's opinion of Petunia's sister's group…not all of them. That Amos boy Lily hung out with talked a smooth game and had Marge debating joining the modern era. Maybe it was time to embrace the 1970s and all it had to offer before the 1980s came and swallowed them up.

But Amos' group had their reasons for keeping separate. He made the mistake one evening of casting a spell—

"Magic is real?" she asked.

"Yes," he confessed. "We're from very different worlds, Margie."

"But what if I joined you?"

He only liked a non-magical Marge.

120: ScabiorDraco

Scabior writhed in pain on the floor of Malfoy Manor. The entire time, he tried to keep his eyes closed.

Because, while closed, he wouldn't have to see Draco's impassive expression.

Shitty little thing… Scabior should've known better, taking this assignment, coming around the manor often. Eye candy should stay eye candy. When feelings got involved… When hope flared to life…

Well, it hurt him that much more now, to have Draco stand by on the sidelines and do nothing while Bellatrix enjoyed torturing Scabior after yet another Snatcher screw-up.

So it was true, then: Cruelty ran in their blood.

Remarks for—

Ch112: Can't help the nod to my 1st Lavrose fic, "The Sky's the Limit."

Ch114: I always liked the idea of Katie having a bestie outside her House and year, but I can only imagine the potential trouble that might've caused others in their lives who refused to accommodate their friendship.

Ch116: An intriguing concept: A Lucius who might've warned someone for whom he cared on the other side! I just thought it'd be different, considering the Longbottoms were attacked later on, so *shrugs.* AliceLucius hijinks? Idk.

Ch119: I will always love the Margamos ship. (Go read "Way Back Then," folks.)

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

And if you want to support Counting Backwards, please swing by its FFN and AO3 versions and consider liking and reblogging these posts on my HariPo fic tumblr!

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thosebizzareserpents · 5 years ago

Note

any headcanons on who was on the gryffindor quidditch team in 1998-1999? what about the other houses?

at the height the second wizarding war 1997-1998 I don’t think there were any official teams or quidditch matches being played at Hogwarts or professionally. (I do have a snipet/small fic I’m working on, saved drafts about quidditch at hogwarts with focusing on Madam Hooch during that time)

But for the 1996-1997 school there were a lot of graduates, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin are missing a big chunk of positions.

Gryffindor Quidditch Team 1996-1997

Canon Team

Harry Potter: Seeker ( Captain)

Katie Bell: Chaser

Demelza Robins: Chaser

Ginny Weasley: Chaser

Ron Weasley: Keeper

Jimmy Coote: Beater

Ritchie Coote: Beater

Ravenclaw Quidditch Team 1996-1997

*There was literally no team/squad!Also this Cho final year/seventh year. So I built a team.

Cho Chang: Seeker (Captain)

Luka Bradley: Chaser (canon: played during the 1995-1996 school years)

Emmanuel Chambers: ( canon: played during the 1995-1996 school years)

Amina Qureshi: Chaser: (headcanon, name taken from hp wikia/ravenclaw list)

Swati Pevekar: Beater ( headcanon, name taken from hp wikia/ravenclaw list)

Philip Montgomery: Beater ( headcanon. name taken from hp wikia/ravenclaw list)

Joan Kerridge: Keeper (headcanon, name taken from hp wikia/ravenclaw list)

Slytherin Quidditch Team 1996-1997

Draco Malfoy: Seeker (canon)

Blaise Zabini: Chaser (canon)

Leighton Urquhart: Chaser (canon, did not have a first name)

Quinton Vaisey: Chaser (canon, did not have a first name)

Vincent Crabbe: Beater (canon)

Gregory Goyle: Beater (canon)

Titus Mitcham: Keeper (headcanon, name taken from hp wikia/slytherin list)

Hufflepuff Quidditch Team 1997-1997

Also big chunk of team missing. Only three people were name, barely)Captain wasn’t even named, built team as well.

Zacharias Smith: Chaser (canon)

Lance Summerby: Seeker (canon, did not have a first name)

Eurig Cadwallader: Chaser (canon, did not a first name)

Damaris Montgomery: Chaser ( a canon character see montgomery sisters)

Roger Malone: Beater ( a canon character in Harry’s year)

Megan Jones: Beater ( a canon character in Harry’s year)

Haruka Endoh: Keeper ( headcanon, name taken from hp/wikia/hufflepuff list)

7 notes · View notes

aidanchaser · 5 years ago

Text

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’s by @ageofzero, @magic713m, @ccboomer, @somebodyswatson and Aubs

Chapter Fourteen Felix Felicis

Herbology was an excellent class to talk in, given the noisy nature of practical work. On their long walk down to the greenhouse Tuesday morning, Harry told Ron, Neville, and Hermione what he’d learned from Dumbledore in his lesson the previous evening.

Neville shivered in the cold morning mist. “I’m glad he didn’t go to school with us. He sounds awful.”

“Yeah, it’s a scary thought,” Ron said, and pushed the door open for everyone. “The Boy You-Know-Who.” He shook his head and accepted the set of protective gloves from Hermione. “But I still don’t get why Dumbledore’s showing you all this. I mean, it’s really interesting and everything, but what’s the point?”

Hermione pulled her thick hair back from her face. “I think it’s fascinating,” she said. “It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses?”

Neville pulled a pair of protective goggles on and headed straight for one of the Snargaluff stumps. Harry watched as what had looked to be a half-rotted stump sprang to life. Thick, thorny vines erupted from its center, doing their best to beat Neville back and prevent him from retrieving the pods buried beneath the roots.

Harry took some time adjusting his goggles. “How was Slughorn’s party?” he asked.

“Oh, it was quite fun, really,” she said, with a tone that surprised Harry. He’d spent so long mocking the suppers with Ron and Ginny during his conveniently scheduled Quidditch practices, that he had assumed Hermione had been miserable at them, but he supposed he and Ron had just pretended that she hated the dinners for so long, they’d believed it must be true.

“I mean, he drones on about famous ex-pupils a bit,” she added, “and he absolutely fawns on McLaggen because he’s so well-connected, but he gave us some really nice food, and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones.”

“Gwenog Jones?” Ron spluttered. “The Gwenog Jones? Captain of the Holyhead Harpies?”

“She’s Ginny’s favorite,” Harry said, surprised both by Hermione meeting such a popular Quidditch star and by this strange fact that had leapt unbidden to his tongue.

“Yes, that Gwenog Jones,” Hermione said, and gave Harry a curious look. “Ginny was quite shocked to meet her. Though McLaggen did put a damper on her enthusiasm. Personally, I thought she was a bit full of herself — Jones, I mean, not Ginny —”

Before Harry could ask what McLaggen did this time, other than be himself, Professor Sprout came by their table and urged them to get started. Neville had already retrieved a pod all on his own. It was impossible to discuss who someone’s favorite Quidditch player was and why that information was pertinent when a Snargaluff stump was busy protecting its pods with thick whips and constricting roots.

Hermione was the one who reached her hand into the center of the stump while Ron and Harry held back the vines. She triumphantly emerged with a glowing, pulsating pod about as big as a fist. Once she’d pulled the pod free, the vines retreated into the stump and it once again appeared to be an innocent piece of dying tree.

“Don’t be squeamish!” Professor Sprout said. “Squeeze it out; they’re best when they’re fresh.”

Hermione, with a look of disgust, dropped the pod into the bowl Harry passed her. She did not look like she had any interest in squeezing pus from the pod, protective gloves or not. She passed the bowl to Ron and said, “Anyway, Slughorn’s going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there’s no way you’ll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come.”

Harry groaned, and Ron, who had been attempting to squeeze the tube’s juices out by pressing down on it, stood and used his entire weight to push on the pod in the bowl.

“And this is another party just for Slughorn’s favorites, is it?” he said, though he was looking down at the pod when he did, and it was possible the frustration on his face was at the pod’s resistance to being squeezed. Possible, but not probable.

“Just for the Slug Club, yes,” said Hermione.

The pod slipped out from Ron’s hands after a particularly violent push. It flew across the green house, smacking into the glass ceiling with an unattractive squelch and plopping down onto Professor Sprout’s hat. Harry hurried to retrieve it.

When he returned, Hermione was saying, “Look, I didn’t make up the name ‘Slug Club’ —”

“Slug Club — It’s pathetic!” Ron’s disgusted face could no longer be blamed on the pod, because Harry was now the one holding it. Ron’s hands were tightened into fists on the table and his face was slowly turning red. “Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don’t you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug —”

“We’re allowed to bring guests,” Hermione snapped, “and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it’s that stupid then I won’t bother!”

Harry knew Hermione well enough to know from the rough edge in her voice that if he looked up, he would see tears in the corner of her eyes. As it was, he had absolutely no desire to look up, and instead looked back over his shoulder to see if Neville could provide him with an escape from this, but Neville was showing Professor Sprout the jar full of pus he had already collected.

So instead, Harry banged the pod against the bowl as loudly as he could manage, but it was not loud enough to drown out Ron and Hermione’s conversation.

“You were going to ask me?” Ron said, and he no longer sounded like he found Snargaluff pods and the Slug Club equally disgusting. It was a surprisingly soft voice for Ronald Weasley.

Hermione, though, was still furious. “Yes. But obviously if you’d rather I hooked up with McLaggen —”

Harry grabbed a trowel and beat the pod with the flat side of it. The slaps and squelches did not cover Ron’s very soft, very gentle answer.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

Harry missed the pod and the bowl shattered beneath the trowel with a loud crash. He repaired it quickly, but the crash had reminded Ron and Hermione where they were and who they were with. Hermione hastily dug through her bag for her textbook, intent on hiding her face from everyone for a moment. Ron gave Harry a slightly apologetic smile, but he seemed pleased with himself. Harry didn’t blame him. He wondered if this was finally going to be the end of Ron and Hermione’s bickering and he could finally have some peace.

“Hand that trowel over, Harry,” Hermione said as she ran her finger over a page of Flesh-Eating Trees of the World. “It says we’re supposed to puncture them with something sharp.”

Harry handed over the trowel and pod and eagerly dove back into the stump for another pod.

He thought perhaps this might be the beginning of a new chapter for Ron and Hermione, but he observed no identifiable changes between them over the next few days. They were more polite to each other, at the least. But there were no whispered conversations, nor solitary walks like Harry might’ve expected from his friends, like Harry remembered from his brief relationship with Cho Chang. But perhaps it was better as it was, considering the way he and Cho had gone. Perhaps Ron and Hermione simply being friendly again was what they needed. Hadn’t he learned from watching his parents that friends made the best partners? But he’d also learned the opposite watching Remus and Sirius.

Only time would tell. Harry didn’t care to play matchmaker between his friends; instead he had a Quidditch team to sort out.

As Halloween passed, and the Slytherin game came ever closer, Harry reluctantly admitted he would need to replace Katie Bell. She was still being treated at St. Mungo’s, and there was little chance she would be recovered in time for the match. Even if she was, she hadn’t been training with the team, and he needed time to make sure his Chasers flew well together. And as Harry had no interest in wasting another Saturday with the circus of tryouts, he knew he would have to ask someone to fill in as Katie’s alternate.

The next best flyer from tryouts had been Dean Thomas, a choice that Harry made reluctantly for several reasons. Least of which, Dean and Seamus were both good friends, and choosing one over the other would upset Seamus. But Harry swallowed down this fear, cornered Dean after Transfiguration class, and offered him the position.

Another reason Harry had wished for a choice other than Dean was the way other Gryffindors whispered about his choices. Granted, Harry had a good deal of experience with Hogwarts spreading rumors about him and whispering behind his back. As irritating as it was to have his housemates annoyed that he had chosen some of his closest friends for the Quidditch team, it was nothing compared to people thinking he was the heir of Slytherin, or that he was half-mad and cared about nothing but his own fame.

There were other reasons Harry disliked having to choose Dean Thomas, but he didn’t dwell on those. Instead, he comforted himself with how well they flew at their first practice together. Dean, Ginny, and Demelza were as synchronized as Katie, Angelina, and Alicia had been. They passed the Quaffle with practiced ease, like they had been doing it for years. Harry knew that his Chasers had what it took to crush Slytherin. His Beaters, too, were getting better with each practice. Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote were not natural flyers, not the way Fred and George had been, but they had enthusiasm and took correction well.

It was Ron who was proving troublesome. His confidence was flagging, and it seemed to get worse daily.

Harry knew if he did not win this match against Slytherin, he would go down as one of Gryffindor’s worst captains who had ruined the team’s winning streak by choosing only his friends for the team. The trouble was, he did not know how to boost Ron’s confidence. Harry had not witnessed the game in which, by some miracle, Ron had saved every goal and Ginny had snatched the Snitch from under Cho Chang’s nose. He did not know what Ron needed to calm his nerves before their match against Slytherin in just two weeks.

After a particularly awful play, in which Ron punched Demelza Robbins in the face and broke her nose, and Ginny hit Ron with the Quaffle as often as she scored — Harry was certain that it was intentional, but he had no way to prove it — and Peakes caught Harry with a nasty Bludger to the shoulder, Harry called an end to practice an hour early.

Ginny stormed off to change without a word to even Dean, which Harry found both pleasing and unsettling. He wanted to run after to check on her, but Dean was already on it. Harry decided as Captain, he ought to focus on Demelza and Ron.

Fixing Demelza’s broken nose was easy enough with all the practice Harry had received over the summer; Ron’s ego was an entirely different matter.

“I played like a sack of dragon dung,” Ron said as he touched down. And while it was true, Harry refused to admit it.

“No — not at all.” Thankfully, no one was left on the pitch to refute Harry. “You’re the best Keeper I tried out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves.”

Ron still looked pale as they headed to the changing rooms, so Harry kept the encouragement up as best he could. He reminded Ron of his better saves, of his championship game against Ravenclaw last year, of his perfect tryout score. It helped — at least, Harry thought Ron looked marginally cheered by the time they reached the castle.

They took their usual shortcut up to Gryffindor tower. Harry pulled back the tapestry that hid a staircase and was greeted with a vision that would haunt him for months to come.

Ginny Weasley and Dean Thomas had apparently moved on from whatever sour mood Ginny had been in, because Ginny’s hands were twisted tightly into Dean’s t-shirt, pulling him closer, and his hands were on her hips — no, lower — pulling her against him. Their lips were pressed together just as tightly, parting only for a moment, long enough for Harry to hear a sound from Ginny that burned all other thought from his mind.

“Oi!” Ron shouted.

Harry had hardly heard him, but as Dean and Ginny parted, the hot white anger dampened slightly, just enough for him to process the conversation around him.

“What?” Ginny snapped, though she did not let go of Dean’s t-shirt as she turned to look at Ron.

“I don’t want to find my own sister snogging people in public!”

“This was a deserted corridor till you came butting in!”

Harry considered letting the corridor return to being deserted and doing his best to pretend what he had just witnessed was a nightmare. He also considered doing something outrageous and drastic, like punching Dean Thomas.

Dean, for his part, had let go of Ginny, and seemed to be looking to Harry for sympathy. He even smiled with a little embarrassment but not proper shame on his face. Harry found himself unable to do anything more than stare back, and hope the anger that burned in his stomach was not visible on his face.

“Er… c’mon, Ginny,” Dean said. “Let’s go back to the common room.”

“You go!” Ginny finally let go of Dean only to fold her arms over her chest. “I want a word with my dear brother!”

Dean did not look too upset at being sent away. He was surely familiar enough with Ginny’s temper. Harry was, too, but he had a feeling that if he followed Dean he would do something he would later regret.

“Right.” Ginny tossed her hair over her shoulder with a haughty glare. “Let’s get this straight once and for all, Ronald. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them.”

Ron’s face was as red as Ginny’s. “Yeah, it is! D’you think I want people saying my sister’s a —”

“A what?” Ginny shrieked with a sort of anger Harry had never truly seen on her. She even pulled her wand from her pocket. “A what, exactly? I s’pose you and McLaggan —”

Harry got between Ron and Ginny, though it seemed a dangerous place to be. “You know Ron’s never spoken two words to McLaggan. He doesn’t mean it.”

“Yes — he does!” Her anger did not wane at all with Harry between them; it seemed to increase. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve all said about me. I don’t care.” The heat on her face and the tears that slipped down her cheeks belied her apathy. “Ron’s just jealous that he’s never snogged anyone in his life — just because the best kiss he’s ever had is Auntie Muriel —”

Harry could hear Ron fumbling for his wand and a small, distant part of Harry thought Ron should be better prepared in case of a duel.

“Shut your mouth!” Ron said.

“No, I will not!” Ginny no longer seemed to care that Harry was between them. She grabbed his shoulder and tried to shove him aside.

Harry thought himself particularly stalwart to hold himself there, to not make an attempt to grab her hand, though his stomach twisted with an unbidden electricity.

“I’ve seen you with Phlegm,” Ginny shouted over Harry, unable to get around him, “hoping she’ll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her. It’s pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you wouldn’t mind so much that everyone else does it!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ron, now, tried to move around Harry to get to Ginny. Harry put his hand on Ron’s shoulder to hold him back in a way he dared not do with Ginny in this moment.

“Just because I don’t do it in public —” Ron said, but he was cut off by Ginny’s laughter.

“Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?”

An orange streak flew past Harry and missed Ginny by inches. Harry shoved Ron back into the wall, instinctively, unsure which of them he was trying to protect.

“Harry’s snogged Cho Chang!”

Though he had his back to her, Harry could hear the tears in Ginny’s voice.

“And Hermione’s snogged Viktor Krum!”

Harry wanted so desperately to turn around and say something comforting.

“It’s only you who acts like it’s something disgusting, Ron!”

Harry wondered if he held her, would Ginny feel better? If he let her cry into his arms —

“And that’s because you’ve got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!”

Ginny stormed down the corridor, towards the common room, and Harry maintained his hold on Ron not just to keep Ron there, but to keep himself from chasing Ginny as well. She would go back and cry on Dean’s shoulder, and there was nothing Harry could do about that.

When Harry was certain neither he nor Ron were going to start a duel the moment they walked into the common room, he let go. They did not move, each absorbed in their own all-consuming anger and frustration. It was not until Mrs. Norris rounded the corner that they felt compelled to hurry up to bed.

They made it up seven flights and passed the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. “Out of the way!” Ron snarled at a small girl, who was clearly out after her years’ curfew. She jumped in fright and dropped a bottle of toadspawn.

Harry vaguely registered the crash of glass on the stone floor, and thought Ron, as a prefect, ought to tell her to get back to the common room, but all thought seemed distant. His mind was elsewhere, wandering hidden corridors with Ginny.

“D’you think Hermione did snog Krum?” Ron asked suddenly.

Harry was stunned by the question, and had to drag his thoughts away from the corridor and back to the present.

“Oh — er…” Though he did not dare give it, Harry knew the answer to Ron’s question. He didn’t think Ron would like the answer anymore than he would like to walk in on Harry snogging Ginny.

Ron, it seemed, interpreted Harry’s nonanswer just fine. “Dilligrout,” he grunted at the portrait of the Fat Lady, who swung open without comment.

They headed straight for bed without a word. As Harry undressed and set the two-way mirror on his bedside table, he considered calling his parents. He had checked in with them after the full moon, and was glad they were alright. Though his father’s pallor had been worrisome, they had both assured him that everything was fine. They’d also promised to be at Harry’s Quidditch match.

Harry didn’t know what he would say to them if he did check in tonight. There was nothing on his mind except Ginny Weasley in the corridor. That was not something he wanted to discuss with his parents. Maybe with Sirius.

The clearest non-Ginny related thought Harry had as he dressed for bed occurred briefly and sharply. He wondered, just for a moment, if what he’d felt when he’d seen Ginny and Dean in that corridor was anything like what Sirius felt about Tonks and Remus. Was that why Sirius had taken a mission so far away for so long?

Harry buried his face into his pillow and hoped that Sirius would come to his Quidditch match. He did not know who else he could talk to, who else would understand. He wondered if he would be able to focus much at Quidditch with his head muddled like this. Though they were nothing like the nightmares he’d had last year, Harry’s dreams were unpleasant and full of furious Rons and Ginny Weasleys, showering him and each other in curses.

Harry found that he preferred dreams of Cho Chang being upset about chocolate frog cards. He spent much of his morning lying in bed, wondering why the fury he felt towards Dean was so much stronger than the frustration he’d felt with Cedric back then.

Harry did not find his answers as the days went on, and Ron’s mood did not improve. Instead, it grew worse, and so did his Quidditch playing.

Off the Quidditch pitch, Ron was predictably rude to Dean, was not speaking with Ginny, and was unusually snide with Hermione. Hermione was bewildered by this treatment, and no amount of peace-keeping on Harry’s part seemed able to resolve the situation. When Hermione warned him against dropping his knarl quills into his potion before stirring, Ron snapped that he knew perfectly well what he was doing, and why didn’t she pay attention to her own potion. Harry, whose book told him that it was better to add the quills while stirring, did not know how to help them.

On the Quidditch pitch, Ron was both unusually aggressive and a terrible Keeper. He and Ginny sniped at each other, and he managed to criticize each player on the team, despite how terribly he himself was playing — or perhaps because of how terribly he was playing. At their last practice before their opening game of the season, Ron went several steps too far, and made Demelza Robbins cry.

“Enough!” Harry finally shouted. The fury in Ginny’s eyes was likely to turn into a Bat-Bogey Hex at any moment, and Jimmy Peakes looked ready to launch the next Bludger into Ron’s face.

“Peakes, pack up the Bludgers. Robbins — pull yourself together. You played really well today. And Ron —” Harry dropped his broom down beside Ron while the others left the pitch. “Listen, Ron — you’re my best mate, but carry on treating the rest of them like this and I’m going to kick you off the team.”

Harry was braced for Ron to hit him, to react out of the anger that had been boiling over all week, but to his surprise, Ron dropped down a few feet, as if it was his anger that was keeping him afloat.

“I resign,” he said. “I’m pathetic.”

This was not the response Harry had hoped for. True, Ron had failed to save a single one of Ginny’s goals, but Harry knew how great a player Ron could be when his heart was in it. Since encouragement hadn’t been working, Harry tried a different tactic.

He grabbed the front of Ron’s robes and pulled him closer. “You can save anything when you’re on form. It’s a mental problem you’ve got!”

“You calling me mental?”

“Yeah, maybe I am!”

For a moment, Harry thought the fight had returned to Ron, but it left just as quickly as it had appeared, and Ron shook his head. “I know you haven’t got any time to find another Keeper, so I’ll play tomorrow, but if we lose, and we will, I’m taking myself off the team.”

Harry tried to imagine the team without Ron. He would have to replace him with Cormac McLaggen. Just the thought of it made Harry’s stomach turn.

But no amount of cajoling or criticizing or cheering would lift Ron’s spirits. Even when they went to dinner, Ron seemed more interested in snapping at Hermione than in any conversation Harry tried to have about Quidditch. Even when Hermione went up to bed early, tired of Ron’s attitude, Ron did not care to hear Harry’s insistence that the team would be devastated if Ron quit. Harry’s words were undercut by the Quidditch team, huddled together and throwing Ron nasty looks. Nothing Harry did worked.

That night, Hary put together a plan. He would not lose tomorrow’s match — he couldn’t. It was his first match back since Umbridge’s ban and his first match as Captain. He could not let down his team nor his house. Also, he was determined to crush Draco Malfoy. He just needed to guarantee that Ron would have a really good day….

The weather that Saturday was perfect for a game. The excitement in the Great Hall was overwhelming. Slytherins booed as the Gryffindor Quidditch players entered the hall for breakfast, and Gryffindor returned the favor. Even Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were decked out in reds and greens to support their friends in this intensive rivalry game. The entire Gryffindor table and half of the Hufflepuff table cheered as Ron and Harry entered. Harry grinned, used to this treatment, and Ron did his best to smile back, but he looked as pale as he had before his very first match.

“Cheer up, Ron!” Lavender said, passing by the two of them unusually closely. “I know you’ll be brilliant!”

Ron didn’t seem to notice her.

“Tea?” Harry offered as they took a seat. “Coffee? Pumpkin juice?”

“Anything,” Ron said, and took a bite of toast.

Harry waited until Hermione had come downstairs. She’d taken to waiting to join them for meals, and Harry didn’t blame her, given Ron’s attitude. Today, when she approached she gave Ron a wary glance.

“How are you both feeling?” she asked.

“Fine,” Harry said, as cheerily as he could manage. He handed Ron a full glass of pumpkin juice. “There you go, Ron. Drink up.”

Hermione stared as Ron lifted the glass. As he put it to his lips she snapped suddenly, “Don’t drink that, Ron!”

Ron hesitated. “Why not?”

Harry looked up at Hermione with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, Hermione, why not?”

Hermione stared at Harry in utter disbelief. “You just put something in that drink.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron’s drink. You’ve got the bottle in your hand right now!”

Harry tucked the small golden vial into his pocket. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“Ron, I warn you — don’t drink it!”

“Stop bossing me around, Hermione,” Ron grunted, then downed the glass in one big gulp.

Hermione leaned close to Harry and hissed, “You should be expelled for that! I’d never have believed it of you, Harry!”

“Hark who’s talking,” he hissed back. “Confunded anyone lately?”

Hermione frowned. She apparently did not have it in her to take attitude from both Ron and Harry today, but Harry didn’t mind that she stormed off. He only prayed that she would wait until the end of the game to tell a teacher.

As they headed up to the pitch, Ron still looked a little green.

“Lucky the weather’s so good,” Harry offered. There was still a chill in the air, but to have such a clear sky on a Quidditch game day was lucky indeed.

When they got to the changing room, the girls were already in their Quidditch robes. Ginny, as had become her habit, ignored Ron and turned to Harry.

“Conditions look ideal,” she said.

Harry nodded. His tongue had taken to turning into lead when Ginny was around. He found that was probably safer than saying something he might regret.

“And guess what? That Slytherin Chaser Vaisey — he took a bludger to the head yesterday during their practice, and he’s too sore to play! And even better than that — Malfoy’s gone off sick too.”

Harry, midway through pulling his robes over his head, turned to face Ginny. “What? He’s ill? What’s wrong with him?”

“No idea,” she grinned, “but it’s great for us. They’re playing Harper instead; he’s in my year and he’s an idiot.”

Harry finally got the robes over his head and tied off the golden laces. He wondered why Malfoy wasn’t playing. It seemed strange that Malfoy would willingly back out of a Quidditch match against Harry, after so many years of vicious competition. The score between them currently sat at two wins for Harry and one win for Malfoy, though Harry’s second win had been dampened by Umbridge’s declaration that Harry was banned from Quidditch for life. Harry had been certain Malfoy would be looking to settle a score.

“Fishy, isn’t it?” Harry whispered to Ron. “Malfoy not playing?”

“Lucky, I call it,” Ron said. He pulled his gloves on. “And Vaisey off too — he’s their best goal scorer. I didn’t fancy — hey!” Ron froze, helmet half on, and stared at Harry.

“What?”

“I… you… my drink —” Ron dropped his voice and leaned closer to Harry. “My pumpkin juice — you didn’t…?”

Harry, who knew how illegal fixing a Quidditch match with potions could be, said nothing. “We’ll be starting in about five minutes. You’d better get your boots on.”

When they walked out onto the pitch, the crowd shouted an equal measure of cheers and jeers, depending on which half of the stadium they were seated on. Harry waved to the Gryffindor half of the stands and turned to the teacher’s box. He shielded his eyes against the sun and caught sight of his parents, seated near Professor McGonagall, waving at him. He did not see Remus nor Sirius. He was, though, glad his parents weren’t sitting with Hermione. He didn’t want her to say anything that might force him to forfeit the match.

“Captains, shake hands,” Madam Hooch said, pulling Harry out of his worry. He turned to face the Slytherin Captain, Urquhart. They shared a crushing handshake.

“Mount your brooms,” Hooch said. “On the whistle… three… two… one…!”

The frosted grass snapped beneath Harry’s boots as he kicked up and into the air. The Quaffle went upwards, too, and within seconds it was in Urquhart’s hands. Harry, for his part, soared towards the edge of the pitch, where he could keep an eye out for the Snitch, away from the chaos of the match. It also was helpful as Captain to get an eye of his team. His Chasers were right on Urquhart’s tail, flying in perfect sync. It was hard to pull himself away from watching them to keep an eye out for the Snitch, but he forced himself to.

The replacement Slytherin Seeker, Harper, was low to the ground, zipping across the pitch. Harry pulled himself higher, hoping that in the bright, clear day he would see the sunlight reflecting off the tiny Snitch.

“Well, there they go,” the announcer’s voice filled the stadium, “and I think we’re all surprised to see the team that Potter’s put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley’s patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the captain does help.”

As the Slytherin side of the stadium reacted to this inciting statement, Harry looked for the commentator’s box. Lee Jordan, who had held the position for Harry’s previous five years on the Quidditch team had finished at Hogwarts last year. Instead, Harry saw an unfortunately familiar, skinny, obnoxious Hufflepuff in the commentator’s box. Zacharias Smith, who had been a member of the D.A., was providing the play-by-play of the match. His criticism of Harry’s leadership abilities, it seemed, extended not just to illegal Defense lessons, but to Quidditch as well.

“Oh, and here comes Slytherin’s first attempt at goal,” Smith said, as Urquhart drew close with the Quaffle. “It’s Urquhart streaking down the pitch and —”

Harry couldn’t watch.

“— Weasley saves it! Well, he’s bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose.”

Harry grinned, glad to hear Smith playing right into his plan. This game was going to go well. He could feel it.

And it did. As surely as if Ron had taken Felix Felicis, he saved every goal. Gryffindor had not shut Slytherin out in years, but they did it in this game. Ron did it.

And the Chasers played flawlessly. They passed the Quaffle with ease, and the few Bludgers that did get through Coote and Peakes, they took in stride, and did not break formation. Harry had to begrudgingly admit that Dean and Ginny made a good team. Even Zacharias Smith, who could no longer pick on Ron, and could not move onto Ginny, who not only had an excellent Bat-Bogey Hex she was not afraid to use on him, but had scored four of Gryffindor’s six goals, had to admit Harry’s team was doing well.

“Of course, Coote isn’t really built for a Beater,” Zacharias Smith said, deciding that if he couldn’t criticize the Keeper or the Chasers, he may as well start in on the Beaters. “They’ve generally got a bit more muscle.”

Harry zipped past Coote and said, “Hit a Bludger at him!” but Coote just grinned and sent his Bludger sailing at Urquhart, who took the hit soundly, and fumbled the Quaffle. Ginny was there to scoop it up and score as surely as if Urquhart had announced he was passing it to her.

As Ron made another save with just the tips of his fingers, the Gryffindor side of the stadium roared with approval and began a chorus of “Weasley Is Our King.” Ron threw the Quaffle to Demelza Robbins and waved gratefully to the crowd.

“Thinks he’s something special today, does he?” Harper sneered, and rammed against Harry, then darted towards the other side of the pitch.

While Seeker-smashing was not legal, Hooch’s back was turned, so Harry thought he’d take the opportunity to return the favor. He rubbed his shoulder and shot after Harper.

“And I think Harper’s seen the Snitch!” Smith announced. “Yes, he’s certainly seen something Potter hasn’t!”

Harry grunted, unable to comprehend Smith’s stupidity. Had he, too, missed the crash-and-dash, like Hooch? But he saw the glitter of gold ahead and his stomach sank. No, Harry had been too busy watching the game to remember to keep an eye out for the Snitch. Gryffindor was only up a hundred points. If Smith got the Snitch now, the hard work of Harry and his team was all for naught.

Harry accelerated, but he knew he could not catch up with Harper. Harper had too much of a head start. His hit had been intentional, knowing that he couldn’t outdo the Firebolt and Harry’s flying unless Harry got off to a slow start. But Harry was not about to let this be the end — not after Ron had played so well, not after Harry had even let go of his jealousy to let Dean Thomas on the team.

“Oi! Harper!” Harry shouted over the wind. “How much did Malfoy pay you to come on instead of him?”

It was a desperate attempt, a shot in the dark, but it worked with incredible success. As Harper glanced back in shock, the Snitch slid through his fingers. He was unable to bank and turn back around by the time Harry had reached the Snitch. He clutched his gloved hand around it and the whistle that marked the end of the game sounded throughout the stadium.

Two hundred and fifty to zero. It was Gryffindor’s best game since Harry had joined the team. He held the Snitch high above his head as he sank to the ground, cheers abounding from the Gryffindor side of the stadium. Harry grinned up at his parents, who were the loudest cheerers in the professor’s box, right beside the commentator’s box. A streak of red flew past them and into the commentator’s box.

“Miss Weasley!” Professor McGonagall’s voice carried across the pitch.

“Sorry, Professor!” Ginny shouted over her shoulder. She was already heading back down to the pitch, not nearly as bruised as Zacharias Smith had to be. “I forgot to brake!” And then she was landing on the pitch and pulled Harry into a hug. It was a brief victory hug, and she quickly moved on to give Dean a longer hug, but Harry stored the memory of the moment somewhere in the darkest corners of his mind to ruminate on later. Now was not the time. Now was a time for celebration.

He clapped Ron on the shoulder and then the pitch was full of a mob of Gryffindors, all cheering for their team.

“Celebration in the common room!” Seamus shouted at Harry, any bitterness between them long forgotten. Harry grinned and waved in acknowledgement. Several more Gryffindor students, and notably Luna Lovegood with her roaring lion’s hat, shook Ron’s hand and clapped Harry on the shoulder. Finally, Harry and Ron managed to extricate themselves and get to the changing room.

Ginny, Dean, Demelza, Jimmy, and Ritchie had already hurried to change and get to the party, it seemed, so Harry and Ron were alone.

It was just as well, because Hermione forced her way in. Fortunately, Harry and Ron had already pulled on their trousers.

Ron still had his shirt in his hands though, and he hastily pulled it over his head.

“I want a word with you, Harry,” Hermione said, twisting her scarf in her hands. “You shouldn’t have done it. You heard what Slughorn said. It’s illegal.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Ron. “Turn us in?”

“I’ll tell your parents, Harry! You know I will!”

Harry turned around to hang his robes and to hide his smile. “What are you two talking about?”

“You know perfectly well what we’re talking about! You spiked Ron’s pumpkin juice at breakfast! With Felix Felicis!”

Harry pulled on his jacket and turned to face her with a raised eyebrow and a thinly concealed grin. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes you did, Harry! That’s why everything went right. There were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!”

Harry slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small, glittering gold vial, wax seal still intact. “I didn’t put it in.” He turned to Ron. “I wanted you to think I’d done it, so I waited until Hermione was looking to fake it. You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself.”

Ron blinked as Harry returned the potion to his pocket.

“There really wasn’t anything in my pumpkin juice? But — the weather’s good. And Vaisey couldn’t play. I honestly haven’t been given a lucky potion?”

Harry shook his head. Ron had always been a good player; he had just needed a confidence boost. Harry was glad he had been able to give it to him.

Then Ron rounded on Hermione and Harry felt all his hard work crumble beneath the three of them.

“You added Felix Felicis to Ron’s juice this morning! That’s why he saved everything!” Ron mimicked in a cruelly shrill voice. “See,” he said, “I can save goals without help, Hermione!”

Hermione blinked back tears. “I never said you couldn’t, Ron — You thought you’d been given it, too!”

But Ron was already walking past her, uninterested in her defense. The door to the changing room slammed shut behind him.

Harry searched for words of comfort, unsure why everything had gone so wrong. He’d expected Ron’s success to improve Ron and Hermione’s relationship. He’d thought if Ron got his confidence back, he could go back to the brief politeness that Ron and Hermione had shared.

“Er…” He struggled for something reasonable and came up empty. “Shall we go up to the party, then?”

“Oh, you go!” Hermione wiped a tear from the corner of her eye that threatened to spill out. “I’m sick of Ron at the moment, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done!”

She stormed out after Ron. Harry wished he had words of comfort for her, but he was not sure how to tell her that what she had done was kiss Viktor Krum. It sounded unreasonable, even to him, who had been there to see Ron’s temper.

Harry headed out of the changing room, head down, lost in thought and walked right past his parents.

“Hey — Snitch!”

He looked back to see that his parents had been waiting for him along the path back to the castle. In the wake of everything with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, he had forgotten how excited he was to see them. That excitement boiled up into a laugh despite his troubles, and he doubled back down the path to hug them both.

“Great game,” James said.

“Better than any your father played,” Lily said, and kissed his forehead.

“That’s unfair; I wasn’t a Seeker! It’s not comparable.” But James was laughing as he protested Lily’s jab.

Harry took a moment to take in his father’s smile. It seemed that there had been so few of them this summer. It was nice to have this moment, to have joy in something simple.

“I missed you at breakfast,” Harry said.

“We tried to get here earlier,” Lily said, “but we were helping Frank and Alice — will you tell Neville they said hello?”

“Sure. Everything alright?”

“It is now,” James said. “We had a run-in with Bellatrix Lestrange and Travers late last night —”

“Early this morning,” Lily corrected.

“Right. Everyone’s fine now, though. Worked out okay. Lestrange got away, but we got Travers. I expect you’ll see it in the papers, and I expect we won’t be mentioned.”

Harry looked his parents over and did not see any additional scars or new wounds. They looked as they always did; they looked even better than they had during the summer holidays.

“Er — no Remus and Sirius?” Harry asked.

“Sirius is still north, I’m afraid,” said Lily. She took Harry’s hand and James’s hand and started up the path. “We haven’t heard from him for a few weeks…”

“But there’s good news,” James said hurriedly. “Remus has agreed to come home and take his potion and he’s got his wand with him, so he can Apparate safely when he needs to. He’ll be home on Monday for his first dose.”

“That is good news,” Harry said, though it did not erase his fears about Sirius.

“Is everything alright with Hermione?” Lily asked. “She looked terribly upset when she passed by.”

Harry told them about Ron’s fight with Ginny. He left out his own jealousy, still afraid to put words to it. He was not yet ready to admit to his parents he liked Ron’s sister, a girl he’d grown up knowing, a girl his parents knew fairly well. He wondered if they knew anyway.

“Ron will grow up,” James said confidently. “And Hermione’ll learn to be more honest with her feelings.”

“How do you know?” Harry asked.

“Because we had to learn that,” Lily said.

“But why do I have to suffer in the middle of it?” Harry grumbled.

James laughed. “Remus, I believe, was stuck between Lily and I. Maybe you can talk to him tomorrow night, if he stays long enough. Somehow, Sirius always seemed to prefer it when we fought.”

“Sirius was just used to us fighting. He understood us better when we were angry with each other than when we got along,” Lily corrected. She squeezed Harry’s hand. “We heard about Katie Bell. Are you doing alright?”

“Me? I’m not the one in St. Mungo’s.”

“Your mum and I read Tonks’ Auror report,” said James. “We know you were there.”

“I’m alright. It was… scary. But I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.”

“And how are lessons?” Lily asked.

“Fine,” Harry said readily, eager for a change in subject. He considered telling them about Dumbledore’s lessons, but decided that there wasn’t time for that conversation. “Snape’s terrible, as usual. It might be the first year I fail Defense.”

“Impossible,” James said. “It’s your best subject. You came along excellently as a duelist this summer.”

“You didn’t teach me nonverbal spells!”

James frowned. “Nonverbals already?”

“I started nonverbals with my fifth years,” Lily said as they reached the castle. “I didn’t expect them to master it, but most professors expect it by sixth year. You’ll get the hang of it, Harry. It’s just focus and practice. I’d say let’s have a practice duel now, but you’ve got a party to attend.”

Harry wondered if the atmosphere of a party would encourage Ron and Hermione to make up. He thought it unlikely.

“What if I didn’t go?”

“You’re the captain!” James protested. “You have to be there.”

Reluctantly, Harry hugged his parents goodbye and trudged upstairs to the Gryffindor common room. He took the long way there, rather than the usual shortcut. It gave him time to sort through his worries about Sirius and the few secrets he had chosen to keep from his parents. It was hypocritical of him, wasn’t it, after so many years of begging them to be honest? They’d shared the truth of why they were late so easily. They’d been honest about where Sirius was, about what was going on with Remus. Surely Harry owed them honesty in return.

There was just a month left until Christmas, Harry told himself as he gave the Fat Lady the password, and he would tell them everything then, when there was time to discuss it all. When there was time to be worried.

A resounding cheer filled the common room as Harry entered. Several people asked him where he’d been and he smiled and gave them non-answers. He didn’t see Hermione anywhere, but it was hard to make out anyone past the Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis, who demanded a blow-by-blow account of the match. He’d only just managed to get away when a group of fourth-year girls got between him and the drinks table. He remembered Romilda Vane from the train ride, and she was heavily hinting that she wanted to attend Slughorn’s Christmas party with him. He wondered how she’d even heard about it.

He managed to slip away from her and right into Ginny. She sloshed the two drinks in her hands all down the front of hers and Harry’s clothes.

“Sorry —”

“S’alright,” Harry said, and avoided looking at her as he used his wand to Vanish the spill and clean up their clothes. Her cat, Puck, was slipping between her ankles and clawing at her leggings, trying to get at the Pygmy Puff on her shoulder.

“Were you looking for Ron?” she asked, and he finally looked up at her.

“What?”

“He’s over there,” she grinned and pointed, “the filthy hypocrite.”

He followed her finger to a corner of the common room where Ron and Lavender were entangled in each other, snogging at least as passionately as Dean and Ginny had been, but in sight of everyone in the common room, rather than a hidden corridor.

“It looks like he’s eating her face, doesn’t it?” Ginny said casually as she refilled her two drinks. “But I suppose he’s got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, Harry.” She knocked her elbow against his side in congratulations, and even just that small gesture sent Harry’s stomach plummeting.

He looked away as she returned to Dean with their drinks, but knew he could find no solace in Ron, who it seemed would not likely be leaving Lavender soon. He was just about to look for Hermione when he thought he caught her leaving the common room. His stomach sunk again, with a much less pleasant sensation.

Harry barely managed to evade Romilda Vane and the Creevey brothers a second time and hurried into the corridor.

“Hermione?” he called, but the corridor was empty. He tried the nearest unused classroom and found her sitting alone on one of the desks. She had her wand out, and a flurry of yellow canaries circling her head. They’d only just learned the charm in Transfiguration that week, and Harry was impressed she was able to conjure it now, as distraught as she looked.

“Oh — hello, Harry,” she said, and though she smiled at him, her voice cracked. “I was just practicing.”

“Yeah — er — they’re really good.” He wasn’t sure what to say, exactly, but he knew he would rather be here than in the common room at the moment, so he sat on the desk next to her and watched the yellow birds flitting over their heads.

She was quiet for a long moment, so long Harry wondered if perhaps she had not seen Ron and Lavender after all. But then she said, “Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations,” and a sniff at the end of her statement told Harry all he needed to know without seeing the tears on her cheeks.

“Er… does he?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t see him. He wasn’t exactly hiding it was he?”

Harry struggled to find an answer, and was saved by perhaps the most unfortunate event. He thought Voldemort intruding on his and Hermione’s private conversation would have been better than Ron throwing open the door and dragging Lavender in by the hand.

“Oh,” he said, which Harry thought particularly ineloquent of him, not that Ron was the most eloquent of his friends.

“Oops.” Lavender giggled, and tried to tug Ron out of the room. It seemed she had nothing more eloquent to say herself, and slipped out of the room. “Come on, Ron,” she called, but Ron seemed rooted in the doorway.

“Hi, Harry,” Ron said, with an uncomfortable and overly friendly smile. “I wondered where you’d got to.”

Harry found himself at as much a loss for words as he had been for Hermione.

Hermione, however, was never at a loss for words. “You shouldn’t keep Lavender waiting outside,” she said, in the same brittle tone she’d greeted Harry with. “She’ll wonder where you’ve gone.”

“Er — Right.” This did not seem to be the response Ron had been prepared for, and he looked relieved that it was nothing worse.

Harry wished it had been something worse. Harry wished Hermione had gotten angry with Ron, then maybe Ron would give up whatever this was with Lavender and things could iron themselves out.

But Ron did not move, and it seemed that Hermione’s temper was only thinly restrained. “Oppugno!” she said, and the flock of yellow canaries that had been circling the room dive-bombed Ron, pecking and scratching, until Ron finally left the room, and they scratched at the door until they disappeared in a puff of yellow feathers.

Hermione choked on a sob. Harry decided words were useless anyway, and wrapped his arm around her.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “I’m ruining your party.”

“I didn’t want to go anyway,” he admitted.

“Because of Ginny?” She pulled herself out of his arms and he let her pull herself together. He knew Hermione well enough to know that as much as he was trying to comfort her, he was probably embarrassing her more than anything else. She didn’t show her vulnerable feelings to many people.

“And other things,” Harry said.

Something tapped at the glass window panes, and for a moment, Harry thought Hermione had managed to create the canaries again. But when he looked, he saw Hedwig trying to get in.

Harry hurried to let his owl into the classroom. She dropped a scroll into his hand and hooted at him. Harry fished in his pocket for a treat, but came up empty.

“I’ll get you something back in the dormitory.” He rubbed her cheek with his finger, and she bit him irritably, but she didn’t fly off.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, still drying her cheeks with the sleeve of her jumper, and Harry thought she was eager for a distraction.

“It’s a letter,” he said.

“Don’t be stupid.”

Harry broke the seal and unrolled the rather lengthy piece of parchment.

“It’s from Cedric.”

“You’re writing to Cedric Diggory?”

“I told him about my lessons with Dumbledore.”

“Does he know about the prophecy, too?”

“Yeah — it felt right to tell him. He was there for all of it, all the duels with Voldemort, I mean.”

Hermione held her hand out for the letter and Harry, with a mischievous smile, handed her the blank parchment.

She looked at the front and the back and frowned. She dropped it on the table and said, “Specialis Revelio,” but the paper refused to give up its secrets. She frowned, and Harry thought a puzzle was the best distraction he could have offered Hermione. She pointed her wand at the desk and a blue flame ignited on the corner of it.

“Whoa — Hermione —” Harry snatched the letter back from her.

“I wasn’t going to burn it! I thought that heat might reveal the letters!”

“What? Heat?”

“It’s a Muggle trick!”

“Muggles have invisible ink?”

“Yes, they do. I thought you liked James Bond films?”

Harry could not recall invisible ink being used in any of the Bond films Sirius had taken him to see. “Well it’s not Muggle ink. Fred and George had it made for us.”

“Let’s see it then.”

Harry suddenly felt very uncomfortable sharing this secret between him and Cedric, this secret he had not shared with anyone else. But he did not see how he could reasonably tell Hermione that he didn’t want to tell her. So he said the revealing half of the incantation.

“With the Snitch up ahead and the wind in my hair.”

The ink curled out from the center of each word, slowly filling both sides of the parchment with Cedric’s words.

“Oh!” Hermione said. “That’s a helpful charm. Did you and Cedric choose the incantation?”

“Yeah — something we’d both remember.”

“Well, what did he say?”

“Well, I don’t know Hermione, I haven’t read it yet.”

Harry —

I’m sorry I wasn’t able to write sooner. Things haven’t been well at the Ministry. I don’t know exactly what they’re reporting in the Prophet, but if it’s half as bad as things are, it’s a wonder the entire Wizarding World isn’t in a panic. I know they reported on Stan Shunpike’s arrest, whatever good that’s doing. Probably because we’ve let so many others slip through our fingers. I haven’t managed to be involved in much of the action, but I heard Proudfoot and Savage — Aurors — got into a duel with a pair of Death Eaters in Knockturn Alley. They survived, but the Death Eaters got away. A couple of shops in Knockturn Alley decided to close their doors because of it. Williamson and I have been tasked with making sure the people who leave their shops aren’t doing it because they’re being threatened, or worse, they’re missing. And just last night, the Longbottoms got into it with Bellatrix Lestrange and Travers. I heard your parents were there, too. I can tell you some of the Ministry was not happy to hear that, but they got Travers out of it, so they couldn’t really complain.

I heard from Tonks about what happened at Hogwarts. I’m glad you’re alright. It sounds like the Healers are optimistic about Katie, too. I didn’t know her too well at Hogwarts, but I remember she was an excellent Chaser, and a really good duelist. She and Alicia did not have the patience for Umbridge. Their snide remarks were encouraging.

From what Tonks said, it sounded like you were part of the reason Katie was able to get help so quickly, and it may have saved her life. I know what you mean about feeling helpless, but I hope you know you weren’t. You took action quickly, and you helped in a way that got Katie in the hands of people who could counter the curse, and that’s not something everyone knows how to do.

If you were hoping for more answers about who cursed Katie, I’m afraid we don’t know any more than Dumbledore. I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you, but I thought it worth letting you know. It’s interesting that you think Draco Malfoy is the one who cursed Katie. I can’t believe that a student would be able to pull off something like that without Dumbledore knowing about it. I know Malfoy Manor’s had its fair share of raids, too. With Lucius Malfoy’s arrest, they’ve had a lot of Aurors go through their house, looking for dark artefacts. It’s hard for me to believe that they’ve managed to keep anything hidden, but maybe they did. Maybe Mad-Eye should go through their house with that magical eye of his.

Katie’s curse aside, Draco Malfoy having the Dark Mark is a serious accusation. From what the Ministry has come to understand, it’s a mark reserved only for those most intimate in Voldemort’s organization. Certain Death Eaters have had it, but there are plenty of Dark Wizards who follow him who aren’t marked. For Voldemort to choose Draco Malfoy to be in his intimate circle seems like a stretch. I’ll keep it in mind, though I don’t know what good I’ll do with the knowledge. You’re the one who’s closest to Draco Malfoy right now.

As for your lesson with Dumbledore, you’re right, there isn’t much I can learn about Tom Riddle’s history just knowing he was born at some orphanage in London. It must have been unnerving to see Voldemort as a child, though. I can’t imagine what it must be like for people like McGonagall and Dumbledore, who got to see him grow up.

A lot of the things you pointed out about Voldemort — his secrecy and isolation — make sense. They’re definitely things that help us understand him better, and with any luck will help us catch him faster. I can’t help you with the collected items. I have no idea why Dumbledore would think that was important. Was he using them for a spell? I know he was just a child, but you did mention he had a strong grasp on magic, even before attending Hogwarts.

I couldn’t find much on Tom Riddle himself. It seems he was awarded for special services to Hogwarts at some point during his time there, but that was stripped recently, and I couldn’t find any further information on it. I’m sorry I’m not much help this time, Harry.

I’m writing this at Grimmauld Place, which seems to have become the only place in my life with any peace and quiet, and Sirius and Emmeline Vance just walked in. They’re fine, and I expect they’ll have a proper report ready for the Order shortly, otherwise I’d tell you everything now. He says to tell you hello, and that he’s sorry he missed your Quidditch game. I hope it went well. It’s your first game as Captain isn’t it? Captain is stressful. I don’t miss it, though I do miss playing. I hope you had fun, whether you win or lost, though I guess against Slytherin there’s only one option, isn’t there?

Stay alert, Harry. And stay safe.

— Cedric

When Harry had finished reading, he handed it to Hermione. He was glad to know that Sirius was back from whatever his mission had been, and he hoped that Sirius would stick around until Christmas. The full moon fell on Christmas Eve this year, and it would be nice to have everyone home for the holiday. Harry hadn’t had a proper Christmas at home for a few years. He hoped this one worked out.

While he wished Cedric had been able to tell him more about Malfoy and Riddle, he hadn’t expected much. He hoped that he would have another lesson with Dumbledore soon, but it seemed unlikely it would happen before the holidays.

“What did Cedric tell you in his last letter?” Hermione asked.

Harry had forgotten how quickly she could read. He took the letter back and hid the ink again. While he folded the parchment up and put it in his pocket, he told her what Cedric had told him about the Gaunt family, how Marvolo Gaunt and Morfin Gaunt had been arrested, and Morfin had eventually been arrested for murdering the Riddle family.

“Why didn’t you tell us any of this?”

Harry shrugged. “It was interesting, but it didn’t tell me anything about Voldemort, really.” He’d also felt like his letters to Cedric were something to be kept secret. He hadn’t wanted to share them with anyone. The only reason Hermione knew about them now was because she’d been upset when Hedwig arrived. At least it had cheered her up. And at least Ron didn’t know. Harry had a feeling that Ron might rib him for having secret letters with Cedric that were sealed with a couplet.

“It’s odd, though, isn’t it? That Morfin Gaunt murdered them all those years later. And why wouldn’t Dumbledore tell you about that? Voldemort’s father being murdered by his uncle seems like an important detail.”

“Why’d he tell me all about Tom Riddle collecting things as a kid? What Dumbledore thinks is important isn’t what we think is important. I guess when we’re a hundred-and-eighty-five, we’ll understand it, too.”

This made Hermione laugh, and Harry thought that even though the party itself had been terrible, and his plan to get Ron back in a good mood had backfired, he could at least count this part of his day as a win.

#hbp #everyone lives #harry potter everyone lives au

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