The Amour

- The Amour -
Novelette

Prequel To
The Amourette

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• Chapter One •
Once Upon a Time

Harry Potter wasn’t really the type of person you’d say was a witty-dashing-celebrity-bloke-with-lots-of-money-and-an-armful-of-slutty-girlfriends. Yes, he was a celebrity of some sorts, and he had a mountain of gold vaulted thousands of feet under London, but on the other hand, he didn’t have an armful of sluttish girlfriends. His self-image had a lot to do with it, most supposed, because he never strutted around the school like Draco Malfoy, he never yakked on about his fortune, like Draco Malfoy, and he wasn’t anywhere near as stuffy and confident as Draco Malfoy.

No, Harry Potter was selfless, shy, reserved, and good to the bone. Most of the time, his humility served him well. For example, the ability to avoid many a professor’s scolding whenever he was dozing off in class or whispering when he wasn’t supposed to. Or, the worship of the house elves who worked in the kitchens, which provided him with enough chocolate cakes and cherry pies to last a lifetime.

But, what if, at times, such qualities turn against you, and betray you to things that become your worst fears? A pain beyond anything physical, a pain that cuts fine and deep into the most fragile molds of your heart?

Perhaps this story is one with a very important moral. And the moral would be like this...

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Once Upon A Time wasn’t how Harry’s day began regularly. There was never a Once Upon A Time, and he was convinced there never would be. Once Upon A Time signified a life where everything was a perfectly wondrous fairytale, and Harry would be damned if he’d ever felt cheerful in the morning even once in his sixteen years. He would have snorted sarcastically if Trelawney had Divined he would have a spectacular day on Saturday, the twenty-first of November. Then again, anything that came out of her mouth was rubbish and he wouldn’t have taken heed of it anyway, but that was beside the point.

Saturday, the twenty-first of November was bound to be another lousy day; he had no doubt about it.

The first catastrophe appeared during breakfast, not thirty minutes into the morning. He was eating porridge, and talking with Ron and Hermione about visiting Hogsmeade later that day, when out of nowhere, an envelope fell with a splatter into his goblet, spraying him nicely with a thick sheet of pumpkin juice.

Ron promptly burst out laughing, chunks of potato flying from his mouth, and Hermione’s mouth was twitching and, although she handed him her napkin, she had a slightly amused look. Harry sputtered and wiped at his glasses furiously with his shirt, cursing the brown owl silently as it screeched and circled above his head, it then took off back toward the open window across the Great Hall.

“Cool look, Harry,” Dean whistled from his left, giving a thumbs up.

“Yeah, very wet,” added Seamus with a wink, causing Harry to blush angrily, while he snatched the soggy envelope from the pool of juice that was left inside his goblet.

Hermione cast a reproving look at Dean and Seamus before leaning forward over the table, craning her neck. “Who’s it from?”

“Is it Hagrid?” Ron asked, turning his head to read the front of the envelope.

Harry, feeling rather curious himself, quickly opened it and unfolded the sheet of parchment within.

Dear Harry,

I feel terribly awkward with writing such a sudden letter to you, and I’ve been arguing with myself for weeks now, whether I should or shouldn’t do this. But really, if I’m true to myself, I know I need this more than I need my ego. And besides that, I owe you an apology. I really do.

I want to apologize for the way I’ve been acting this past year and a half. I’ve been unbelievably selfish, ignorant, and completely inconsiderate of you. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me by now, as if I were you, I would probably hate myself too. I hate myself even now, for not having the courage to do what was right.

Ever since Cedric’s death, I’ve been wallowing in my own self-pity and convincing myself that I was never going to be happy again. And I truly felt that way for the longest time. To have someone you love torn away from you without so much as a goodbye is a feeling I will never forget, no matter what I do to distract myself. I was so sure that I was the only one in this school that could ever feel so hurt, and that no one would understand me, despite people doing their hardest to comfort me.

I saw how wrong I was when I heard about your fight with You-Know-Who last summer. I felt so awful. I hadn’t even gone with you, when the least I could have done was help you. I couldn’t look at you the day after you came back even though I wanted to talk to you so badly, and apologize to you for not being there to fight alongside you. I was afraid that if I faced you, I wouldn’t be able to stop crying.

You’ve also lost someone who was really close to you, but you haven’t drowned yourself in your sorrows like I have, and I respect you for that, more than you’ll ever know. You are strong, and kind, and brave. I’m weak and useless. I know I don’t deserve anything from you, but I wish that you’d forgive me for my stupidity and give me another chance. I really want to make it up to you, Harry.

Maybe we can talk later today, just the two of us at Hogsmeade or something? I’ll understand if you refuse, but I hope you won’t.

Please reply ASAP.

Lots of love,
Cho

Harry blinked, and he stared stupidly at the parchment in his hands. He blinked again. His mind was completely blank as he sat there, his mouth hanging slack and feeling more stunned then if he’d been hit with a stupefying hex.

He couldn’t have possibly read what he’d thought he’d just read ….. could he? It must be his imagination, his hopeful mind conjuring up notions that could never and would never happen, no matter how much he wanted them. Really, the letter must have said something along the lines of, ‘I hate you, you’re an arsehole, never talk to me again’ and his mind was playing tricks on him.

He clamped his eyes shut and shook his head violently, willing it to quit using Voodoo on his sanity. He didn’t need any more trouble then he already had to deal with.

“What are you trying to do? Snap you neck in two?”

Harry’s eyes shot open and he found Ron frowning and looking at him strangely. Hermione had a curious look too. They’d both stopped midway in their eating to stare at him.

“So who is it from?” Hermione asked impatiently. “It’s rather long, isn’t it?” A blush began to rise in Harry’s cheeks as he felt the tips of his ears growing uncomfortably hot. Hastily he folded the letter haphazardly and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Er-” he stammered while running a nervous hand through his hair. “It’s uh- from Lupin.”

Hermione’s brows knitted bewilderedly, “Professor Lupin? Really? Is something wrong?”

Ron’s eyes were wide with fear and he leaned in, cupping his mouth. “Is the Order in trouble? Do they need us?”

Harry immediately regretted using Lupin as an excuse. Blushing even more feverishly, he lowered his eyes and shook his head. “Actually... it’s not from Lupin,” he admitted shamefully.

“It’s not??” his two friends echoed in unison.

“Then who is it from?”

“Why did you lie?”

“Is it that bad?”

“What’s wrong Harry?”

“You can tell us-”

Harry was sure he was redder than Ron’s hair, and he rarely blushed much, he felt like sinking underneath the table in embarrassment. “It’s....” he hesitated, and took a deep breath, not meeting either of their demanding gazes. “It’s from Ch-Cho.” His voice was barely a whisper, but they caught it nonetheless.

“Cho?” Ron exclaimed loudly.

“Cho Chang?” Hermione repeated, startled.

“SHHH!” Harry put his hands up frantically and glanced to either side of him, fearing the rest of the school had overheard. “You don’t have to shout it!” he hissed.

“Oh. Sorry,” Ron said, not looking sorry at all. He was actually looking rather miffed. “Why the bloody hell is she writing to you?”

“Ronald -” Hermione reprimanded.

“But she’s been a damn right bitch to Harry! He didn’t deserve any of that crap she gave him!” Ron turned sharply to face Harry again. “What’d she want?”

Harry bit his lip and twiddled with his fork, his head scrunched onto his shoulders. “Erm -”

“She’s not giving you a hard time is she?” Ron pressed on, his eyes narrowing. “Because I will go and tell her off if she is... dock a few points -”

Hermione made an annoyed face and crossed her arms, “You can’t abuse your prefect privileges Ron. Points aren’t to be taken away for personal matters, And you know that!”

“But if she’s bothering Harry -”

“She’s not,” Harry blurted out, feeling nettled. “She’s not, okay? So - so - let’s just drop this.”

Ron shot him a skeptic look, “She’s not? Then what’s she writing you for?”

Harry heaved a sigh, feeling defeated and uselessly stubborn for trying to hide it from his best friends in the first place. They’d somehow find out sooner or later, he was sure of it.

“She wrote me to.... to apologize...” he said slowly, lowering his voice so that no one else could hear them.

“She’s apologizing?” Hermione breathed, eyebrows rising in surprise. “Oh that’s wonderful Harry! Good for you!”

“She’s apologizing?” Ron scowled, in a tone much different from Hermione’s. His was sour and full of suspicion. “A bit fishy isn’t it? I mean, why is she apologizing to you all of the sudden? Maybe she’s got something up her sleeve -”

Ron went quiet when Hermione shot him a cold glare and pursed her lips. “Why can’t you just be happy for Harry? Why do you always have to be such a pessimist?”

“I’m not a pessimist!” Ron retorted indignantly.

“Then stop with this nonsense about Cho! You’re being absolutely ridiculous!”

Ron’s nostrils flared but he didn’t respond. Instead, he looked back at Harry, and Harry sunk further into his seat. “What else did she say?”

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, Harry,” Hermione intervened quickly. Harry heard a muffled thud, which was followed by the look of pain shooting across Ron’s face.

“Bloody hell, that HURT!” he cried, grabbing his toe and cradling it in what looked like an awkward position. “What the hell was that for???”

“You deserved it,” she answered coolly before finishing her last bit of porridge.

Harry stifled a slight smile at their antics before giving in. “Alright, I’ll tell you guys, but don’t tell anyone else, okay?” Ron immediately dropped his foot and leaned in. “She’s asked me on a date to Hogsmeade today.”

Hermione clapped her hands together delightedly and gave a little giggle that sounded very un-Hermione-ish. Ron, on the other hand, didn’t look happy at all.

“But -” he protested. “We had plans to go to Hogsmeade together -” Harry blushed again, and glared daggers at Ron, as Seamus and Dean turned to stare.

Ron blushed even harder than Harry, when he realized what he’d just said. “I meant, ” he glared at the two boys who were sniggering beside him. “You were supposed to come with us to Hogsmeade!” He jabbed his finger in emphasis at Hermione and himself.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, with a guilty and uncertain look on his face. Of course he’d promised them... but this was something he wouldn’t give up. He wasn’t that stupid.

“I know Ron...” He bit his lip and poked at his cold bacon. “But - this is sort of important to me... you know? And I can always go with you guys the next Hogsmeade weekend!”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione sighed, while rolling her eyes. “Don’t listen to Ron; he’s being a downright prat. Of course you can go with Cho. It’s great to hear that she’s thought things over.”

“Yeah...” he absently replied, smiling foolishly and feeling suddenly very silly. And then he remembered something very important. “Oh! I forgot to reply to her! Dammit!” He was searching about hastily for a spare bit of parchment and a quill when he realized d he hadn’t brought any as it was Saturday.

“Here, use mine.” Hermione offered him a leaf of parchment with a smile, and her quill and ink bottle.

Harry smiled back and took them from her gratefully. “Thanks,” he said, trying to ignore the scandalous glares he was getting from Ron.

“You’re actually going?” Ron spluttered in disbelief.

“I suppose so,” Harry answered, and began scribbling a quick reply, not caring that his hand was quavering slightly and his writing was even messier than usual.

“There, done!” he said after he finished, rolling up the parchment swiftly but then he stopped, suddenly very troubled. “Shoot, I don’t have an owl... the one she sent is gone already -”

“Here, you can borrow Ruphus, Harry.” Dean, having overheard the last half of their conversation (thanks to Ron), gave a shove to his dark brown owl, who’d been busy drinking from his goblet of juice. The owl pecked at Dean’s hand angrily but obeyed hopped over to Harry and stuck out his leg.

“Ruphus?” Ron snorted. “What kind of name is Ruphus?”

“Named after Ruphus Brevett, a damn spanking good defender on the West Ham team!” Dean replied shirtily, drawing himself up. “You got a problem with that?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “You named him after a muggle football player? You’re out of your tree, I tell you. Players that don’t even move...” he muttered, shaking his head.

“They move, just not in the poster!”

Harry quickly tied his letter to Ruphus’ leg and patted him on the wing. “Don’t worry, I like your name,” he whispered reassuringly. Ruphus hooted and nipped his finger lightly. “Could you take this to the black haired girl at the Ravenclaw table? Her name’s Cho Chang.”

Ruphus hooted again and then spreading his wings wide, took off up into the air impressively, cuffing Ron’s head as he passed.

Ron looked very disgruntled.

With nervous eyes Harry watched as the owl soared across the Great Hall amongst many, above the Hufflepuff table and then swooping low toward the third table across, where Cho was sitting with her usual group of friends. Harry crossed his fingers, hoping that the other girls wouldn’t notice and make a big unneeded fuss out of it. He was already embarrassed enough as it was.

He didn’t even realized that he’d sucked his breath in and held it far longer then was wise as Cho started when the owl landed in front of her. and stuck out his leg The owl stuck out it’s leg and she removed the letter before looking up quickly and catching Harry’s eye, her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink. She smiled, and Harry, scarlet again, smiled back lopsidedly.

Harry had only scribbled a few sentences, and so it was a mere second before Cho raised her head up to meet his gaze. Her smile widened and she nodded. Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

Unbeknownst to Harry (as he was too preoccupied in staring at Cho and blushing like a tomato as she winked coyly at him) grey eyes were watching the exchange from across the hall, and they narrowed in disgust before averting just as Harry’s eyes shifted in their direction.

Harry was too oblivious to notice anyway.

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Twenty minutes later, after having changed into a clean shirt that wasn’t lathered in sticky pumpkin juice, Harry dashed down the many staircases that connected the Gryffindor Tower to the ground floor. He was already five minutes late and cursed at himself for it. This was just the time to make a bad impression on Cho, and cause her to go back on her offer of friendship and in the process ruin everything that was almost too good to be true. He hadn’t even had time to brush his hair, which would have been a lost cause anyways, since as he dodged through the crowded corridors, the wind of his passing caused it to stick up in all directions.

As he sprinted he tried to shrug into his winter cloak, and the effort of it all caused him to pant and turn red in the face as he skidded to a halt at
foot of the main staircase in the entrance hall.

Cho was already there, but she hadn’t spotted him yet. She was teetering precariously on her tiptoes, her hands clasped behind her back and her eyes roving over the swarm of students making their way out of the castle to Hogsmeade.

He hurried up to her, desperately attempting to flatten his hair and doing up his cloak clasp at the same time. “Hey Cho - sorry I’m late... had to go back to the Tower to change...” he stammered apologetically. He was relieved when Cho turned around and grinned.

“Oh -” she blushed. “No problem, I mean, I just got here too. I had to get my cloak and scarf.”

Indeed, she was wearing a bright pink cloak and matching scarf that seemed a teensy bit too pink in Harry’s eyes, but he imagined it could to be blamed on the light. They both paused for a moment, awkwardly not knowing what to say or do. Harry cleared his throat and nodded toward the door.

“Should - should we get going then?” Cho nodded back shyly and then hesitated before slowly looping her arm through Harry’s. Harry was startled and he quickly looked down at his elbow, before glancing back at Cho who was watching him almost apprehensively, as if she were afraid he might reject her arm. Harry of course, did nothing of the sort. Instead he stuck the hand that was linked into his cloak pocket, which drew Cho closer and trying not to look stupid, grinned and began leading the way to the double doors amongst the steady stream of students.

It was snowing lightly outside, and the narrow gravel path that wound its way to the village was blanketed in a soft veil of white, as were the slopes and trees around them. They didn’t talk much throughout the walk to Hogsmeade, and Harry was busy wondering if there was something he had to say or do at a certain time, or if there were things he oughtn’t to do in certain situations, and a part of him was afraid that this date would end up like the last. The last date with Cho had been... a nightmare. Cho crying over Cedric, Roger Davies snogging his girlfriend only a few feet away, and then all that lace and ribbon that had distracted his train of thought as he attempted to strike up an appropriate conversation with the girl.

This date, Harry would make sure that nothing went wrong. He wouldn’t let it get ruined by something trivial because this was his last chance to prove to Cho that he was worth being around, and not immature for his age. Cho might be a year older than him, but that hardly mattered.

“So,” he said cheerfully, when they were halfway there. The snow had begun to drift down heavier, and the cold air was beginning to seep through his layers of clothing. “Where do you want to go first?”

Cho shivered and brushed the snow off her eyelashes with her free gloved hand.

“The Three Broomsticks for something warm maybe?” she asked hopefully.

Harry felt relieved, he had been half afraid she would request they go to Madam Pudifoot’s.

“Oh, sure,” he nodded. “I could do with a butterbeer.” This isn’t so bad, after all, a voice inside his head said proudly. He wasn’t stumbling too much over his words, his nerves weren’t getting the better of him, and he could think without feeling lightheaded. All of which were definitely an improvement.

So when they entered the gates of Hogsmeade, they made a beeline for the rather old pub along with a good half of the Hogwarts crowd, which entered with contented sighs as the warm air began to thaw their hands and ears. The room was crowded and every table appeared to be taken. The pub seemed impossibly full, but they were able to find one remaining table, which made Harry suspect strongly, that there was some sort of enchantment on the pub that provided just enough tables and chairs it’s customers.

To his delight, the empty table he found was in the far corner of the pub, a spot hidden effectively away by a tall shrub. Cho went to claim the seats, while Harry made his way up to the front to order their drinks.

“Two butterbeers, please,” he said to Madam Rosmerta who was laughing and looking fantastic as always, despite the chaos of business in the shop.

“Not three today, Harry dear?” She inquired with a knowing wink, setting two frothing mugs with a clunk onto the counter. Harry blushed and didn’t reply, instead he just thanked her, paid for the drinks, and hurried back to the table, trying hard not to get jostled by the other occupants of the room.

He reached the table unharmed and slid Cho her drink, before climbing onto his own stool.

“Thanks,” Cho said softly, with a timid smile. She lowered her gaze to her small, white hands that were clamped tightly around the mug, and Harry wondered why she looked so tense. Well, he was tense too, a bit nervous, a bit paranoid, a bit -

A single tear trickled down Cho’s smooth cheek and Harry’s mind stopped altogether. Oh crap, oh dammit, not now! Please not now! He pleaded silently, chewing on his lip. What did I do wrong THIS time??? But then, to his surprise, Cho gave a small choked laugh and hastily wiped away the tear with the back of her hand.

“Sorry,” she said with a shake of her head. “I don’t know why I’m crying. There’s nothing to be crying about.” Harry didn’t know what to say. “I’m just really happy that you’ve decided to give me another chance, Harry. It means the world to me.” She looked as if she really meant it and Harry couldn’t help but notice that his heart was beating a little faster than was normal. He turned his mug in his jittery hands and tried to maintain a cool expression on his face. One of those jock-like looks that Cedric always wore.

“Uh, me too!” he tried rather lamely, and then wished he’d said something more eloquent. Maybe something really comforting and romantic. What was a guy supposed to do in a situation like this? He shifted his attention to his idle hand that was lying on the table before him. His last attempt had failed and made him look like a complete fool...

Taking a silent breath, he tentatively reached forward and laid his own hand atop Cho’s. She blinked, staring back at him with a smile playing on her lips, “So you really forgive me? You don’t hate me?”

“N-no,” Harry stammered hastily, too eagerly. “I mean, no. Of - of course I don’t hate you Cho. I don’t hate you at all, and there’s nothing to forgive -” he floundered around for the right words, but it was proving more difficult then he thought. “You’ve been through a lot, and I don’t blame you for trying to separate yourself from other people... I felt the same way for a while too.” And it was the truth. During the summer holidays, he’d as good as locked himself up from the rest of the wizarding world, ignoring all owls, the miserable attempts at telephone calls, and even promised himself that he would never return to Hogwarts the following year and threw his trunk out of his second floor window of Privet Drive during the night in a fit of pique. After that he’d sat in his bed for weeks, his room dark and not bothering to touch the food that Aunt Petunia provided for him, simply drowning into the shadows. He’d nearly been driven insane by the time Ron had appeared at his house with the rest of the Weasley family, shocked at his famished body and empty eyes.

The last of his summer had been spent at the Burrow, and during his stay there, he’d learned from his best friends that he would never be alone, so long as he had them. Even if Sirius never returned, they would always be there for him, and they would always love him like family just the way he loved them back. He’d felt as if they’d saved him from something worse then death; it was like getting his soul back and a will to live his life. With that he had picked himself up and pieced himself together once more.

And now, it was his turn to save another soul, to help another broken heart. Cho needed him, and he was ready to be there for her. “So don’t be sorry, Cho,” he said a little more confidently, giving her hand a soft squeeze. “We’ll get through this together.”

Cho’s eyes flowed with tears and she threw her arms around his neck, sobbing, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Harry!” Harry went scarlet and awkwardly patted her on the back, grateful again that there were the shrubs to hide behind. When she finally did pull away, her lips were trembling and her face was shining with fresh tears, but this time she didn’t look sad. Harry gulped at the realization that their noses were touching and they were so close that he could only see her large, brown eyes. There were so many emotions swirling in them, that he was almost dizzy in the head.

Then, Cho’s eyelids fluttered close, her cheeks flushed, and Harry could feel her breath on his lips. He sat there suddenly frozen, panicked.

Right before their lips touched, a voice ripped through the air, too loudly and much too close. Harry jumped and immediately let go of Cho, elbowing his mug of butterbeer and splashing it onto the table.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Potty and Hosepipe - and goodness gracious, are you two snogging? In the middle of a pub!?”

Harry snapped his head around, never having been so embarrassed in his life. Is motion brought him face to face with Draco Malfoy, who was closely flanked by his friends, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini. All three were sneering and sniggering loudly enough for the whole pub to hear.

“Sod. Off. Malfoy,” Harry seethed, steadying his voice and clenching his fists.

Malfoy snorted. “Oh please, you could at least be considerate of the rest of us and spare our poor eyes from such a repulsive scene.”

Harry gritted his teeth and stood up from his stool, standing height to height with Malfoy.

“I said, sod off, Malfoy. Or are you too thick to know what that means?”

“Aw, is ickle potty-head threatening me?” Malfoy smirked, his eyes glinting maliciously.

“I might be, if you don’t go bugger yourself and leave us alone,” Harry replied coldly, narrowing his eyes.

Malfoy took a dangerous step closer, his voice a low hiss, “Make me.”

Harry reached his hand into his robes, yanking out his wand quickly enough that he had it pointing at Malfoy’s chest before the blond could even move for his own. Malfoy stared with wide eyes at Harry’s hand and then back at Harry, where his eyes changed from shock to boiling fury.

Harry wasn’t stupid enough to hex Malfoy in the middle of a crowded pub, instead he delivered a punch straight into Malfoy’s face, eliciting a sharp crack from somewhere around the nose. He winced at the pain that shot through his arm.

Malfoy gave a high-pitched shriek of pain before staggering backwards into Blaise, who caught him before he hit the ground.

Pansy screamed too, her voice splicing through the air like nails on a chalkboard, and making every single person in the pub jump in their seats and turn about angrily to see what the commotion was all about. She and Blaise had murderous looks, their faces white and livid. Cho was standing behind Harry gaping, stunned at what he’d done.

“You-!” screeched Pansy, pulling out her wand, with a curse upon her lips, but she needn’t have, because at that moment Blaise’s fist caught Harry’s jaw and sent him flying to the floor with a painful crash. Harry’s head collided with the hardwood floor, and he saw stars.

“Harry!” cried Cho in horror, clapping her hands over her mouth.

“Blaise!” cried Malfoy, the blood from his nose flowing freely over his lips and down his chin. Faster than a blink of an eye, Madam Rosmerta appeared at the scene, her hands on her hips, very upset.

“BOYS! ENOUGH!” she bellowed furiously, standing over them. “I will NOT allow fighting inside my pub!” The entire pub diminished into a hush, frenzied whispers bulleting back and forth between the spectators.

Harry tried to sit up but groaned when his head throbbed and spun. He lay back down again and gingerly fingered his sore jaw. He could feel the quick swelling and tasted a coppery substance on his lips.

He felt gentle hands heaving him up by the upper arm and opened his eyes to see Cho trying to help him onto his feet.

“You two should have someone tend to those injuries,” Madam Rosmerta said reprovingly, and her tone clearly told them to leave the pub. Harry, who didn’t care for any more attention, muttered an apology and let Cho guide him across the floor to the door, his head bowed guiltily. He didn’t even glance at Malfoy, whose robe front was shining with crimson.

“Oh Harry!” Cho said nervously, her voice shaking as they exited the pub into the icy air outside. “Are you okay? Should we go back up to the castle to see Madam Pomfrey?”

Harry mustered up the strength to endure the sharp pain in his jaw and shook his head. “No-” he muttered grimly, massaging his jaw. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t mind at all, and you should really have -”

“It’s okay, Cho,” Harry reassured her without trying not to move his lips. It hurt like hell. “It’s my own fault anyway.”

Cho snorted and glared disagreeably.

“It isn’t your fault. It was Malfoy’s fault! He was being a rude jerk!”

“Yeah, well, he’s always rude and a jerk, isn’t he? I shouldn’t have let my temper go off like that in the middle of the Three Broomsticks... I’m sorry, Cho - for - for ruining our - uh...” he trailed off feebly, feeling uncomfortable.

Cho sighed and let her fingers graze his swollen chin tenderly. “You haven’t ruined a thing, Harry. I’m just happy to be with you.”

Harry blushed and wrapped his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “Thanks, me too. I mean, not with me, but being with you. Happy. I mean -”

Cho laughed and gave him a hug. “You’re too adorable for words, Harry.”

But Harry admitted silently to himself that being called adorable wasn’t very flattering. Especially by a girl a year older than him. And it was all Malfoy’s bloody fault. A ruined date, a ruined kiss, a ruined impression of himself for Cho. He was going to have to pay Malfoy back severely and for once, he was looking forward to a match against Slytherin, which he conveniently had the next day. Tomorrow, he’d make Malfoy wish he’d never messed with Harry. He was determined to do that even if it took a whole new level of ferocity on the Gryffindor team’s part. Give the ferret a little tasting of his own medicine.

The day was looking brighter already.

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• Chapter Two •
Harry Potter, the Hoi Polloi

Once again, Harry’s date with Cho had turned out to be a misadventure, and even though this time, Cho hadn’t run off sobbing in the end, he still felt a bit guilty and disappointed in the outcome. It made him feel very incapable of doing anything remotely related to girls and he wondered why things had to be so troublesome.

Some people were fortunate to be born with the gift of girl-wooing. He however, was born with two left feet when it came to that matter. Not only was it humiliating, but it made his self-esteem sink very, very low. He was sure there weren’t any people who considered parseltongue to be a very attractive gift; that disastrous dueling club back in second year had shown him as much.

As he trudged back up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower later that afternoon, he vaguely wondered why he hadn’t run into Ron or Hermione at Hogsmeade. After Ron’s odd fit about Harry going with Cho, he’d shrugged and said that he and Hermione would be going alone and would be having loads of fun without Harry. Harry supposed that Ron had a right to be upset since the three did have plans to go together that day, but Ron also knew about Harry’s crush on Cho and wasn’t it normal for a sixteen year old boy to choose crushes over friends for Hogsmeade dates?

As a matter of fact, he and Ron were about the only guys in Gryffindor that didn’t have girlfriends. It was pathetic really. Even Neville had one, not that Harry thought he was better than Neville or anything, but Neville was shy and hardly took the initiative to do anything. And that made him wonder - why?

With Ron, it was only a matter of time, for everyone knew that he ‘secretly’ had a thing for Hermione, in return Hermione ‘secretly’ had a thing for Ron. All it would take was a couple of hard shoves in the right direction from either side and they’d be snogging under the dinner table before anyone could say ‘Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare’.

But Harry. That was where the problem was. Or was he himself the problem? He wasn’t even sure if Cho had considered their ‘date’ today an actual date date or just a friendly lunch date. She hadn’t tried any moves on him after that event in the Three Broomsticks and they’d parted rather awkwardly at the foot of the main staircase with a hug and a peck on the cheek.

And the odd thing was, Harry wasn’t sure if he was as completely infatuated with Cho as he had thought, not like he had been in his third and fourth year. There were definitely way too many awkward moments, and thinking of her didn’t bring that rollercoaster thrill to the pit of his stomach, not as it once had.

When he entered the Gryffindor common room, he was surprised to see Hermione sitting alone by the fire, quills, parchment, and books spread out on the table before her. She looked up when he came in and smiled wearily, setting down her quill.

“You’re back early,” she said, clearing off the chair next to her and setting her book bag on the floor. “Have fun?”

Harry plopped down into the chair and sighed. “S’ppose so... where’s Ron? Didn’t you two go to Hogsmeade?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “He changed his mind at the last minute and decided not to. He’s only been down from the dormitory once for lunch.”

“Is it because of me and Cho?” Harry asked apprehensively, glancing at the staircase leading to the boy’s tower.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” said Hermione with a shake of her head. “Ron’s just being immature, and you shouldn’t let that get in the way of you and Cho. She’s a nice girl, Harry.”

Harry frowned, his former thoughts rising up in his mind again. Maybe if he talked about his doubts with Hermione, it would help him to clear them up and rid him of the confusion that was serving him such a useless hassle. Hermione was a girl. She might be able to tell him what kinds of thoughts were going on inside Cho’s mind.

“Hermione,” he began uncertainly, his voice involuntarily lowering even though there was no one else around. “I’m sort of, well, really confused about this whole thing with - with Cho, and I was thinking... maybe me and her aren’t really - uh - compatible?”

Hermione raised her eyebrows and tilted her head thoughtfully. “Why would you think that?” she asked and Harry’s cheeks reddened a bit.

“I - I dunno...” he muttered. “It’s just... different from before, in a way. More awkward.”

“I’m sure it’s just your nerves thinking that, Harry. I mean, you’ve liked her since third year and she’s obviously liked you too, except she’s had to get over Cedric’s death and everything. It’s no wonder you’re feeling confused, with Ron making a fuss and all, but I don’t think you should really worry about it. Honestly.” she smiled and patted him on the knee.

Harry bit his lip. “You reckon? That it’s just that I mean? My nerves?”

Hermione nodded reassuringly. “I do.”

Harry let out a sigh and chuckled. “That’s good then. I was beginning to think that maybe I was weird or something.”

“Well you are Harry Potter,” she reminded jokingly, gathering up her notes and sandwiching them in between the pages of her Charms book.

“Haha, thanks,” Harry rolled his eyes, getting up from his seat. “I’m gonna go talk to Ron, see if I can’t make him come down.”

“Good luck with that,” she laughed and waved sarcastically.

Harry took the winding stairs three at a time, feeling considerably lighter at heart. Of course it was just his nerves. After all, Hermione was right, he did have a crush on Cho since third year, and he could remember feeling jealous whenever he saw Cho with Cedric. That had to mean something.

He cracked open the door to his dormitory and stuck his head in.

“Ron?” he called tentatively.

Ron was lying on his back in his four poster, his hands beneath his head and a forlorn expression on his face. He started when he heard Harry’s voice and sat up. “Oh, it’s only you,” the redhead muttered and flopped back down.

“Yeah, it’s only me. So uh -” he stepped into the room and closed the door softly. “What’s up? What are you doing up here?”

“Being alone,” Ron replied coldly.

“Right... so should I leave?” Harry asked, feeling slightly annoyed but trying to keep his voice cool.

Ron didn’t turn his head to look at Harry, he just stared up at the canopy of his bed. “Sure why not, you’re probably busy with Cho... friends don’t come first for you anyway.”

“So it is about her, isn’t it?” Harry said, crossing his arms. “What’s wrong with me going on a date with her?”

Ron sat up again and glared at him, his freckles standing out sharply against his cheeks. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with you going out with her!”

“Yes you did! You were having a fit this morning when I got an owl from her! Or did you already forget about that?”

“I was NOT having a fit!”

“Yes you were!”

“No I bloody wasn’t! I don’t care a crap about who you go out with! Hell, you could go out with Malfoy and I wouldn’t give a damn!” Harry’s mouth dropped open in disgust.

“That’s just gross, Ron! Take that back!”

“Then quit bothering me!”

“Fine!”

“Good!”

“Be an arse! Like I care!” and Harry stormed out of the dormitory and slammed the door behind him. When he returned to the common room, Hermione was still there, her eyes wide and curious.

“What were you two shouting about? I could hear you all the way down here.”

“No idea,” Harry hrmphed angrily. “He’s got a problem with me going out with Cho but he won’t admit it.” He snapped his head around sharply to look at Hermione. “Why would he have a problem with me and her anyway?”

Hermione bit her lip uncertainly. “Well, it’s obvious that he’s a bit jealous, isn’t it? I mean not of you or Cho specifically, but just the fact that you’ve got someone now. He’s....” she blushed pink. “He hasn’t got anyone yet...”

Harry’s anger simmered down at that and he suddenly regretted blowing up at Ron like he had. What a great best friend he was. “But that doesn’t give him an excuse to be an arse about it,” he protested halfheartedly. “I mean, it just makes everything more complicated.”

Hermione nodded and buried her red nose in her book. “He’ll come around Harry. Don’t worry.”

The conversation ended there, and Harry considered for a moment going up to talk to Ron again, but his pride was still very ticked off, so he decided that he’d give it few more hours to cool down.

His jaw was aching badly now, thanks to the shouting match upstairs, and even though the swelling had gone down, the pain was still there and sharp. He told Hermione he was going to visit the infirmary to get some ice for it and left Gryffindor Tower quickly.

“Not another fight, Mr. Potter?” Madam Pomfrey tutted when he walked into the hospital wing with his hand over his jaw. “Second one I’ve had to treat today. Fighting over silly things no doubt.” She examined his bruised jaw and tapped it lightly with her wand. “There you are, good as new.”

“Thanks, Madam Pomfrey,” Harry said, trying out his de-pained jaw with ease.

“Now, mind you keep out of any more fights, young man,” she scolded severely, placing her wand back into her apron pocket.
Harry nodded obediently and was about to turn around to leave when he caught sight of someone sitting on a stool on the other side of the room, staring at him.

“Malfoy,” Harry said coldly, sneering at the bandage that was taped across the bridge of Malfoy’s nose. He was proud to know that he’d been the one to cause that damage. “How’s your nose doing?”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed and flickered, his lips pursing into a hard, thin line. “Thanks for the concern, but it’s doing fine,” the blonde spat in a nasally voice, and then wincing and clutching his nose.

“Now boys, no more arguing!” Madam Pomfrey interrupted, uncorking a vial of purple potion and handing it to Malfoy. “Drink this, and you may leave, Mr. Malfoy.” Malfoy shot Harry an icy glare before tipping the contents of the vial past his lips and then standing up.

Harry turned and left the infirmary, intent on leaving before Malfoy could catch up with him and hex him into oblivion for temporarily deforming his perfect face.

But when he heard Malfoy snarl “Potter!” from behind him. He stopped and braced himself, plunging his hand into his robes even though he knew it to be too late. He was surprised, to say the least, when Malfoy appeared beside him, both hands empty except for a small pack of ice which he was holding gingerly to his nose.

“No need to get all feisty, Potter,” he heard the blonde smirk in the same nasally voice that didn’t suit him at all. Harry almost laughed out loud, but he managed to suppress it by biting the inside of his cheek. “No one’s ever broken my nose before. Hell no one’s ever broken anything of mine before. You must be proud of yourself.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Yeah, pretty proud,” he answered nonchalantly. “I did even more damage to you than Zabini did to me, and he’s pretty big you know?”

Malfoy scowled. “Damage, my arse. I could have knocked you out easily, Potter and you’d have had to suffer more than just broken bones.”

“Oh? Is ickle-ferret-poo threatening me?” Harry mocked, pointedly looking at Malfoy’s bandaged nose, making Malfoy scowl even more.
“No Potter,” he retorted arrogantly, lowering his ice. “That would be a waste of my precious time. I’ve got better things to do, unlike you, then threatening less intelligent beings.”

Harry frowned indignantly. “Less intelligent am I? And who said you had more brain then me? Quit daydreaming, Malfoy.”

“Well, crushing on a soggy tissue like Chang wouldn’t be something I’d call intelligent, but I already knew you were the hoi polloi from the first day of school. We don’t compare much, do we?” Malfoy spread out his arms as if to display himself smugly.

Harry snorted. Yeah so Malfoy was more fortunate than him in the physical appearance department, but when it came to wit, to courage, to everything else, Malfoy was scum. A cheating, lying, conniving little prick.

“I’d like to hear you say that to my face tomorrow after I’ve caught the snitch from right under your nose,” he replied smoothly.

“Such wishful thinking -” Malfoy clucked his tongue in mock sympathy. “Must be what goes on in the mind of a celebrity, hm?”

“Whatever, Malfoy. Just get off my case and go bug someone else.” Harry turned on his heel to walk away, but Malfoy stopped him again.

“Potter.”

“What?” Harry asked, exasperated.

A thin, white hand extended itself toward Harry and he stared at it feeling very bewildered.

“Good luck tomorrow,” Malfoy said, and Harry thought he’d misheard him. Or that he’d overlooked the sarcasm in his tone.

“What?” he repeated lamely.

Malfoy raised his hand higher. “I said ‘good luck tomorrow’. You should really get your ears checked.”

Harry stared at the hand, and then back up at Malfoy, suspicious. But there wasn’t any trace of a smirk on his pale face, and he didn’t lower that hand that was extended. It was oddly like experiencing a déjà vu... five years ago... a tableau almost exactly like this...

Shaking his head, he grasped the hand before him and smiled.

“Good luck to you too, Malfoy,” and he walked away without a backward glance.

That evening during dinner, everything felt so strange and out of place. Ron was apparently still pissed at him, Hermione was trying hard to get them to talk, Cho came over from the Ravenclaw table to talk to him, giving him a shy kiss on the cheek before leaving (making Ron even more upset), Seamus was making risqué comments that made him shudder, and Malfoy was back to sneering and smirking at him from the Slytherin table along with the rest of his good-for-nothing housemates.

By the end of dinner, he felt so annoyed by everything around him that he just wanted to stand up and shout “LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!” and storm off to the Gryffindor Tower, but decided against it because that would just draw more attention to himself. Attention was never good.

He was very grateful when Dean did the favor of telling Seamus to ‘Shut up already! We know you’re gay, but do you have to be annoying too??’, and Ron did the favor of shushing Hermione up by growling and brandishing his fork menacingly, although that only insulted her and made her stab moodily at her chicken and gravy the rest of dinner.

Overall, it was chaotic and highly irritable for the entire lot of sixth year Gryffindors. They were all relieved when dinner came to a closure and it was time for the Great Hall to empty. Ron and Hermione stayed behind to attend a prefect meeting, and so Harry made his way up the staircases to the tower alone.

He declined an invite to join Dean, Seamus, and Neville in a game of Exploding Snap, claiming that he had to work on some unfinished homework, and seated himself at one of the round tables in the corners of the common room with his books and parchment. He could hardly concentrate enough to get past reading the second page of the assignment however because his mind was so busy and so full of the upcoming Quidditch match against Slytherin. The confidence Malfoy seemed to have earlier that day unnerved him a bit, and made him want to go out to the pitch and practice more, but alas, it was snowing a blizzard outside and past curfew by the time that thought came to his mind. He was forced to abandon the idea and continue with reading the same sentence in his book over and over again.

Hermione and Ron returned at a quarter past nine, and they didn’t seem to be talking to each other yet. Hermione joined Harry at the table, dumping her book bag on the table a little harshly, and Ron, without even so much as glancing in Harry’s direction, went to include himself in the game the other boys were playing.

Harry sighed audibly and picked up his quill again, filling in random numbers into his star chart and feeling very put out.

“He’ll come around by tomorrow, Harry. Don’t worry,” Hermione reassured him tartly, in a tone that clearly told him that she didn’t really believe her own words at all. Harry just shrugged and let everything else drown out around him.