The Girl Who Saw Tomorrow II » Harry Potter

2.38 | Love is in the Air

The amount of time Margaret and Harry spent together increased substantially since they had found themselves best friends of two people who seemed unlikely to ever speak to each other again.

They hung out in-between classes or in the evenings, studying and doing their homework, and went down to Hagrid's hut together.

Margaret joined Harry for Quidditch practice where she paid half mind to the sport while zoning out as her thoughts drifted away to the future. Still, Harry spent all his free time trying to convince her to commentate. He even took to explaining the basic rules of Quidditch, the names of all the players in all four houses and their strengths and weaknesses.

"You know you're beginning to sound a lot like Hermione," says Margaret one day from the stands. Harry was on his Firebolt a few feet away from her, telling her the name of the move one of the beaters had pulled.

He exhaled an exasperated breath. "I'm not the one taking notes!"

"What makes you think I'm writing what you're saying, Professor Potter?"

"Suit yourself. You'll be the one talking into a mic in front of hundreds of people."

Margaret stuck her tongue out at him. "I'll talk about the clouds!"

"Don't you dare!" Harry warned, mildly horrified.

"Then don't let the match get boring!"

One of the players called Harry's name; their short break was over and most of them were waiting for the practice to resume. Harry waved back, indicating he was coming.

"It's against Hufflepuff," he says, amused, zooming further away from the stands but still facing an equally amused Margaret. "It's bound to be boring!"

Snorting, she threw her half-eaten apple at him that he easily dodged. "Leave the Puffs alone, Potter!"

Soon, snow was swirling against the icy windows and Christmas was approaching fast. Hagrid had already single-handedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas trees for the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armour and great bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors.

Large groups of girls tended to converge underneath the mistletoe bunches every time Harry went past, which caused blockages in the corridors; fortunately, however, Harry's frequent night time wanderings had given him an unusually good knowledge of the castle's secret passageways, so that he and Margaret were able to navigate mistletoe-free routes between classes.

As glad as Margaret was that at least she and Harry had each other for decent company, she was beginning to get far too many glares from girls (and even some guys) she hardly knew. It seemed that half of the school and their grandmothers were suddenly very interested in her business just because she frequently hung out with the most popular boy in school.

Then there were the rumours.

"Apparently we snogged-god I hate that word-under the mistletoe outside Charms classroom," says Margaret casually, serving herself some delicious-looking soup. "Professor Flitwick had to have all mistletoes from the corridors removed because, and I quote, 'we can't keep our hands to ourselves.'"

"Oh no, poor Professor Flitwick," states Harry flatly, turning the page of his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. "Is this a bigger achievement than making Snape smile at how adorable we were being?"

"Absolutely not. That will be written in history books."

"Right under 'Dumbledore gives one hundred points to Gryffindor for winning bet against McGonagall about who Harry Potter would end up with'," jokes Harry, both of them snickering.