Remember That Night in the Broom Closet?

Remember That Night in the Broom Closet?

Harry Potter was happy. Happier than he had been in quite a while. He had worked out his differences with his girlfriend, Cho Chang, and they had a healthy, intimate relationship. His best friends--Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger--had finally admitted their feelings to each other and their relationship was going well, although they tend to bicker a lot (Harry was reminded of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley even more, now that Ron and Hermione were a couple). He had gotten outstanding on all his OWLs--except History of Magic--and was taking classes that he needed in order to become an Auror. Even Snape's classes were bearable; although Harry would much rather have been somewhere else. Even Voldemort wasn't affecting him as much as he used to--although still at large, Harry had finally begun to master Occlumency and the dreams were gone.

For some reason, he knew it was too good to last. Something was bound to happen.

How right he was. One day, about a month after Christmas, Harry was heading to his Transfiguration class with Hermione and Ron (both had done extremely well on their OWLS) when a female voice called from down the corridor, "Harry!"

Harry spun around and saw Cho running down the corridor toward him, her dark hair flying over her shoulders. He motioned for his friends to enter the classroom without him. He smiled at her when she reached him, reaching out and kissing her on the lips. Then, he noticed the pained look on her face. "Cho?" he asked quietly, moving his hands to her shoulders and looking her in the eyes. “What’s wrong?”

She took a deep breath, brushed a strand of her raven colored hair out of her face and forced a smile. “Can I talk to you in private?” she murmered, gesturing towards an empty classroom at the end of the hallway.

Harry nodded, taking her hand and walking past the open door to the Transfiguration classroom. Professor McGonagall shot him a venomous look—he knew he was going to be in trouble with her for being late, but he didn’t care. Something was wrong with Cho, she was on the verge of tears and he wanted to know why.

The couple reached the empty classroom. Harry opened the door, letting Cho in, and then stepped in after her, closing the door behind him. “Now,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes, “What’s wrong?”

Taking another deep breath, Cho said, “You might want to sit down,” she breathed, sitting down at a desk and motioning for Harry to do the same.

Harry did as she asked, wild thoughts running through his brain. ‘Should I get up and leave? Is she breaking up with me? If it’s Michael Corner, I swear I’ll kill him…’ He shook his head, pushing out the negative images and focused on Cho. “What’s wrong?” he asked again as she reached forward and took his hand.

Cho was silent for a minute, stopping to admire the way her hand fit into Harry’s. “Harry,” she finally said slowly, “do you remember that one night in the broom closet? On Christmas?”

Suddenly, Harry thought he knew what was coming. ‘No,’ he thought, furiously denying it to himself. He was suddenly very much aware that his hand was all sweaty and droplets of sweat were forming on his face, underarms and chest. Slowly, he nodded.

“Well,” she continued, her voice shaking, “if you remember the night, I’m sure you know that there was no…” she paused for a moment, searching for the right word, before she finally uttered, “protection.”

Harry gulped. It felt like a bucket of ice had been poured down his robes. Although he was sweating quite a bit, he felt frozen. He nodded again, wanting to pull his sweaty hand away from Cho and run out of the room and never look back.

Cho suddenly became very interested in their hands again, staring at them. Then, she said, “I think you get what I’m saying.” She looked at Harry, her eyes lingering on his unnaturally green eyes. “I… I had to tell you now,” she murmured, brushing her black hair out of her face. Her face was tear stricken, her dark eyes ready to spill over.

‘She’s… she’s…’ Harry couldn’t even bring himself to think the word; he was in such a state of shock. Why did this have to happen? To him? He was only sixteen; he had another year left at school! He could imagine Dudley’s taunts when he went back to Privet Drive… “Harry got some girl knocked up, ha ha ha!”

“Harry, why haven’t you said anything?” Cho asked, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes were red and her makeup was smeared. She was suddenly bursting with anger. This was entirely HIS fault, and now HE doesn’t even care! Furious, she screamed “I thought you were different!” and wrenched her hand away from his, running out of the classroom.

Ten minutes later, Harry managed to drag himself from the vacant classroom and down the hall his Transfiguration class. He stumbled in, ignoring Professor McGonagall’s inquiries. He took his seat in the back of the classroom, next to Hermione and Ron.

“Bloody hell, Harry, what happened?” Ron whispered, looking at his friend.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harry mumbled, laying his head down on the desk.

That day, Harry did so horribly in Transfiguration that he thought Professor McGonagall was going to kick him out of her OWL class when she called him to the front of the room when the bell rang. “Potter!” she called, stopping him as he made his way to the door.

Harry walked up to her desk, ready for what was going to happen. “Professor?” he asked, looking at the aged witch.

The classroom was now empty. “Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, looking Harry in the eyes. “What is wrong with you? You were performing on the level of a first year!” she looked angry, but concerned at the same time.

“I’d rather not talk about it, Professor,” he mumbled, looking his shoes and the floor. Professor McGonagall sighed.

“Fine. Just don’t come to class and expect to act like that again!” she said sternly. “You may go.”

Harry slowly made his way up to the common room later that night, muttered the password and ignored all of the Fat Lady’s questions (“What’s wrong with you? Why do you look so down?”). He crossed the nearly-empty room and walked over to the fire and sat down on a squishy armchair, thinking. Ron and Hermione spotted him from their table where they were working on homework. The two walked over to him and sat down, curious to find out what was wrong.

“Harry?” Hermione called, looking him in the eyes. He was staring at the fire. “Hello? Anybody there?” she waved her hand in his face, trying to get him out of his trance.

Harry looked at Hermione, her face shadowed by the fire and the few lights in the empty room. He sighed, wanting to tell her the truth, but at the same time, he was afraid to. “Do you… Do you really want to know?” he said slowly, staring at his best friends.

Hermione and Ron both nodded. ‘Harry’s never been like this, even last year when nobody believed him about You-Know—I mean V-Voldemort…’ Hermione thought. She had been attempting to call him by his name, not You-Know-Who.

“Well…” Harry sighed, his mind still on the scene in the empty classroom. “Cho…”

“Did she break up with you?” Ron asked, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “Sorry… I knew she wasn’t worth your time—“

“NO!” Harry yelled, cutting Ron off and causing the few heads in the common room to turn towards the fireplace. “She’s…” he began, but found himself short of breath. “She’s pregnant.”

Hermione gasped and clapped her hand to her mouth. Ron’s eyes widened in shock. “Are you serious?!” They asked at the same time.

Harry nodded soberly. “I’m going to bed,” he said before either of his friends could say anything else. He stood up, walked over to the staircase and up to the dormitory. He changed into his pajamas and pulled the curtains on his four poster, but he didn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep. He wished he would, maybe this whole situation would just be a nightmare…

Waking up the next morning, it took Harry a few minutes for the events of the previous day to sink in. He slowly dressed and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast early. There were only ten or so other people there…

One was Cho. Her face was tear stained, she looked like she hadn’t slept, and her hair was messy. She looked nothing like the pretty, popular girl that she was. He caught her eye, but looked down at his plate the minute she looked up, extremely interested in his bacon.

A minute later, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. He turned around and was looking into the tired but still pretty face of Cho Chang. “Harry…”

“What? I thought you were mad at me. You were the one that stormed off.” He turned back around and took a rather large bite of his bacon.

Cho sat down next to him, even though she was a Ravenclaw and not supposed to. “Look, Harry, I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t give you enough time to react… It’s just, I wanted to know how you felt…”

Harry couldn’t help but smile and set his bacon down on his plate. “I’m glad you aren’t mad anymore,” he murmered, looking at her. “I couldn’t sleep at all last night, I was thinking… about you… and...” he cut himself off and looked back at his plate.

“Harry… I was thinking, too… We should go to McGonagall,” Cho said, starting to stand up. “I have to get to Quidditch Practice… I’m likely to get kicked off the team if I miss another one, I’ll talk to you later…” she stood up, flipped her messy hair out of her face and left Harry, staring at his bacon.

Hermione and Ron walked into the Great Hall, saw Harry and immediately rushed over to him. “We just saw Cho—“

“She looks horrible—“

“I know,” Harry said, cutting them both off. “I just talked to her.”

Later that day, Cho and Harry walked hand in hand to Professor McGonagall’s office. Harry rapped sharply on the door, and a few seconds later, Minerva McGonagall answered. “Mr. Potter, Miss Chang, may I help you?” Her eyes searched the couple, lingering for a second on their intertwined hands.

“Um, yes, Professor…” Harry mumbled, clearly embarrassed. “We need to talk to you. It’s kind of important.”

Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes, then opened the door all the way so the two could enter. “Sit down,” she said, waving her wand as two chairs appeared out of nowhere in front of her desk. She sat down behind her desk and folded her hands on top of it. “Now, what is so important?” she asked. Harry and Cho began to explain.

When they finished, McGonagall closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Never, in all my years teaching Hogwarts, did I expect to year something like this,” she said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “I thought you two had more sense! You, Mr. Potter, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and you, Miss Chang, outstanding on all your OWLs and one of the top picks in the Professional Quidditch draft! This is… I cannot believe it…But, what’s done is done. Both of your families will be notified.”

Harry groaned, but he knew Cho had a lot more to worry about. His family didn’t care what he did. He leaned over and whispered, “I’m so sorry about this.” McGonagall had started writing a letter to Mr. & Mrs. Dursley. There was another piece of parchment underneath it, which Harry suspected would be a letter to Mr. & Mrs. Chang. A large tawny owl sat on the window seal, ready to deliver the letters.

Cho and Harry sat waiting for McGonagall to finish writing. When both the letters had been written, Professor McGonagall excused both of the students, closing her office door behind them.

Out in the empty corridor, Harry turned to Cho. “Cho,” he said quietly, looking her in the eyes. “I want you to know… I’ll always be here for you. Both of you.”