How Does It Feel?

Quidditch Woes

Ron had woken up after the poisoning and went back to his normal routine. He and Lavender had broken up shortly after and now Harry was preparing for the inevitability of Ron and Hermione dating. The very thought of it raised bile in his throat but he pushed forward and made even more of a point to avoid them both.

The heartbroken wizard was doing well in his plan and was excited for the first time in a while when the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff finally rolled around. The boy was far too caught up in his own feelings and the match would be a foolproof way to get his mind off of it, at least for a bit. He couldn't wait to be up in the sky once more, feeling the wind blow through his hair, and his worries all washed away. It was perfect.

The long walk to the Quidditch Pitch was interrupted when Harry noticed Draco Malfoy looking more suspicious than he already was and walking with two girls. If Harry wasn't already emotionally distressed over Hermione, he would've done something. But, quite frankly, the boy didn't care. He wanted, no, he needed to finally play some Quidditch.

As per usual, Harry was the last to enter the locker room and change into his gear before gathering up his team and giving a pregame speech. Speeches weren't exactly his thing, but he was all too happy to motivate his team and get them ready to beat Hufflepuff. It was a crucial game because a loss would drop Gryffindor to second place in the standings.

Once the speech was over, Harry led from the back as the team exited onto the field. The sunlight was blinding but pleasantly warm as Harry soaked in the atmosphere of the game. It would never get old to him, the roar of the crowd, the aura of the sun. Merlin, he loved this game.

He immediately mounted his broom and flew high above the pitch, mentally steeling himself for the start of the game. Almost by reflex, Harry looked over to the Gryffindor student section and immediately spotted Hermione cheering her heart out for him. A smile adorned his face before immediately disappearing once he squinted enough to notice that she was clutching Ron's arm.

The game had started before Harry even knew it because he was too caught up in what he had just witnessed. The momentary delay allowed the Hufflepuff seeker to speed past him in chase of the snitch, snapping Harry back into action.

Even as Harry began his chase, his mind still ran back on Hermione and Ron. Did it finally happen? Were they a couple? He didn't even notice that the Gryffindor beaters and the keeper, Cormac Mclaggen, were getting their arses thoroughly handed to them.

"AND ANOTHER SCORE FOR THE PUFFS, GRYFFINDOR DOWN 100-0," Harry heard the commentary announce.

Immediately, he refocused his attention on capturing the elusive golden ball. Any more scores from Hufflepuff, and the snitch would be rendered moot. He had to find it, and fast.

True to his reputation as Hogwarts' best seeker, Harry spotted the snitch and gave chase, pushing his broom to its absolute limit. As he sped closer, the snitch was just in arm's reach. If he just stretched a bit further, he would have it and the game would be ended.

So focused was Harry on ending the game that he never registered the oncoming bludger that sped right towards his head. With the snitch almost in his grasp, Harry felt his head rocked back by a sickening collision before blood pooled all over his face, blinding him. He scarcely had a moment of recognition that he was hit before he lost consciousness and plummeted to the ground after falling off his broom.
                                           ———
The light blinded the boy as he finally regained consciousness in the all too familiar hospital wing. "Bloody hell," he groaned out as his body protested every form of movement.

"Hi, Harry," he heard a cheerful voice say from in front of him. He tried to squint at the blurry figure before realizing his glasses were nowhere to be found. He scrambled for them only to feel them gently placed on his face.

He blinked twice to acclimate himself and immediately spotted the telltale untamable hair of his best friend and secret crush, Hermione Granger. As if it were natural, a lopsided grin made its way onto his face.

"Hey, you," he greeted back cheerily.

In a flash, Hermione was at his bedside and clutching onto him as if her life depended on it. A mild grunt escaped Harry as she tried to squeeze the life out of him but he settled in and allowed himself to savor her warmth. A contented sigh followed from his lips.

"Don't you EVER do that again, Harry Potter," the girl commanded.

Harry chuckled lightly and rubbed her back comfortingly. Still, he couldn't help but crack a joke.

"I thought you'd be used to seeing me get hurt from Quidditch," he said with a laugh.

The resulting smack on his shoulder had told him Hermione was nonplussed at his joke but he laughed anyway. He noticed that Hermione still hadn't let go of him but he honestly didn't mind.

"Did we win?" He felt the need to ask as he remembered the match.

"Lost by a landslide," Hermione answered.

Harry didn't know how to feel about that. On one one hand, Gryffindor had slipped to second place now, but on the other, Hermione was in his arms and hugging the life out of him. Something told him that he would choose the other hand ten times over.

"Harry, you have no idea how worried I was for you," she confessed, her tears wetting his uniform.

He shushed her and played with her hair to calm her down, his own heart pounding within his chest at the closeness of her. Despite everything in his body telling him to make a move, he found the will to say and do nothing even as Hermione continued to clutch him tighter.

The pair stayed like that for several moments longer until Harry was suddenly, and painfully, reminded of what he had witnessed right before the game started. Hermione was holding onto Ron's arm and if that didn't mean that they were now together, he didn't know what did.

With the pain constricting his heart, Harry slowly dislodged himself from the embrace and looked directly at Hermione. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was red but she looked like something out of the most beautiful painting in the world. That wasn't right, Harry thought, looking at a mere painting of her beauty wouldn't do her any justice. You'd have to be there in person to fully understand just how beautiful she was. Beautiful and in love with someone else, he sorrowfully reminded himself.

"Ahh, Mr. Potter, I see we're finally awake," he heard the Hospital Wing's Matron, Madame Pomfrey, call out to him.

He nodded, never breaking his gaze from Hermione.

"Well, I should like to run some tests on you before I let you out," Madame Pomfrey stated.

Harry nodded once more, still staring at Hermione who was doing the same to him. His breath caught in his throat as he looked deeper into her eyes, finding a myriad of feelings including admiration, friendliness, and something else that was decidedly unfamiliar but not at all unwelcome.

"Arlight, Mr. Potter, let's get started hmm?" he heard Madame Pomfrey say.

Hermione took her sweet time in leaving Harry's arms, a fact that Harry was far too grateful for, before standing next to Madame Pomfrey as she waved her wand over him and ran diagnostic charms to pinpoint any injuries he still had. When nothing alerted her, she gave Harry a clean bill of health and bade him goodbye.

When they exited the wing, Hermione was now holding onto Harry's hand as they walked back to the common room. He found it strange, especially because she was with Ron, his best mate. His curiosity got the better of him and, before he could stop himself,  he gave it a voice.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" He questioned with a bit more force than he would've liked.

The girl looked down shyly and shuffled her feet like a well dressed-down child at his question. If he wasn't so confused, he would have found it somewhat cute.

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry," Hermione finally confessed bashfully.

Harry raised his eyebrows at this  and looked at her as if she had grown two heads. What the hell was she apologizing for? Before he could question her further, Hermione bolted past him with speed akin to his firebolt.

"What the hell was that about?" He muttered out loud.