What if...

Death smells nice

Before you read this chapter, I need to hold a spelling class, these words have been misspelt too many times.

You're = you are e.g you are stupid if you think the Earth is flat.
Your = possession e.g that is your problem, not mine.

Its = possession e.g the dog wagged its tail as his owner shot up the school.
It's = It is e.g it is futile to run, I have a gun.

Loose = something is not connected well with its foundations e.g that object is loose/the lion has been set loose
Lose = Game over. You lose.

Griffindor is not a word. Same with Slitherin.
Gryffindor and Slytherin, however, are.

Phase = The next phase in my plan is to climb onto the roof and sing 'I believe I can fly'.

(I failed this ^ one myself.)

Add any more common misspellings, and if there are enough, I'll work it into the next chapter.

Now, on with said chapter.

As it turned out, the Prophet did indeed get a story, but it wasn't exactly the one they were hoping for.

Viktor Krum caught the Snitch in the end, and the stands cheered- for the Irish, as they had won by ten points anyway. The score was 170-160, with Bulgaria having only scored once against Ireland's unbeatable Keeper, Ryan, and its unstoppable Chasers, Troy, Mullet and Moran. Obviously, Lynch was no match for Krum, but it was already too late.

"The bloody idiot!" Ron screamed, being a massive hypocrite as usual. "Why'd he catch it while they were behind?"

"Who cares?!" Fred and George say together. "We'll be right back- we just need to pay old Ludo a visit." Fred excused.

"Or, more accurately, he'll be paying us." George grinned.

Harry was about to get up with Neville, before Hermione, already attached to his side, increased the intensity of her iron grip.

"Move and you die." She mumbled angrily, her eyes still closed.

"'Mione, we have to go." Harry coaxed, looking pleadingly at Neville, who shrugged and mouthed 'you're on your own' as he walked away with Draco.

"No." She denied, snuggling further into him.

"Is this because I wasn't affected by the Veela?" Harry asked.

"Maybe." Hermione stated, climbing up his body and hugging him tightly. "I just... I love you, Harry. I really do." She kissed him softly on the lips.

"I love you too, 'Mione." Harry said as Hermione adjusted her position so she was standing up, her hand slipping into Harry's almost subconsciously as she smiled at him.

For a moment, they were alone, walking together, and it felt perfect for both of them.

"This is nice, we never get any time to ourselves." Hermione acknowledged as their hands swung with the momentum of their pace.

"Yeah... it does feel good to get away from the crowd. Literally." Harry added as Hermione laughed softly. When she looked back, she noticed him staring at her and suddenly felt the need to smoothen her clothes.

"What? What is it?" She asked, self-consciously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Nothing... you're just so beautiful." Harry smiled at her through the half-moonlight. She blushed and smiled back.

"And you're so handsome." Hermione returned, finding his simple words enchanting.

Soon, they made their way to a log in the forest, and they both turned back towards the moon and sat together, Hermione's head on Harry's shoulder. Their faces were illuminated by the moonlight, and Hermione could see the individual stars, the blanket of pollution being pulled away as they both stared at the gorgeous night sky.