Harry Potter Imagines

"Sincerity is Scary" (Harry)

september. 

The wind flew through your unpinned hair as you zoomed across the pitch with the quaffle under your arm. Drowning out the muffled cheers and yells from your teammates, you ducked out of the way of a bludger before accelerating and whipping the quaffle toward the tallest hoop, grinning in satisfaction as it flew past the keeper's hands. 

You only had a few seconds to celebrate before Ginny was heading back down the pitch with the quaffle and Potter was yelling at you and the other chaser to practice the new offensive strategy he had explained before practice. 

"Here!" you heard Quigley yell from above you, while Ginny threw the quaffle to you as you had all planned. You darted toward the goal posts, dodged imaginary opponents, and threw the quaffle back to Ginny where she completed the same move you had minutes before. 

You heard Potter's whistle just as you felt the first few raindrops of the thunderstorm that had been threatening to split the sky for the last two hours of practice. You and your teammates were soaking wet by the time you reached the muddy ground of the quidditch pitch.

As you started to walk toward the locker room with Ginny and her brother, Ron, you glanced back at the pitch. Through the sheets of rain, you saw Potter still standing where he landed, looking up at the sky with an odd expression on his face. 

You had never been one to fit the mold. It was in your blood. Your fiery attitude had earned you a spot in Gryffindor house at school, and in it you felt more at home than anywhere else.

That said, you had never been one to see the extremes about Harry Potter. It seemed that everyone either hated or worshiped him, and you were the only person who stayed out of his way altogether.  You were a year below him, so it wasn't exactly difficult to avoid him. When you did interact with each other, usually because of quidditch, your conversations were comically cold and indifferent, as if you were such close friends that you didn't even try to be kind to each other anymore. If this puzzled your friends, it confused you even more. Your relationship with Potter was different from everyone else. 

Over the years you had earned yourself the title of Gryffindor ice queen, since you were absolutely ruthless in absolutely everything you attempted, from quidditch to your grades. You had a heart of gold, but only those close to you could really see it because of your well-built competitive exterior. 

So, you surprised yourself when you turned back and headed back onto the pitch toward where Potter stood. 

As you reached him, the rain weakened to a light mist. 

"Daydreaming, Potter?" You asked. You had been unsure of what to say, unsure of why you were alone with him in the first place, so the first thing that came out of your mouth was obviously not as clever and well-thought-through as you would have liked. 

He raised a lightly annoyed eyebrow and looked at you with an unreadable expression, as if scanning your face for something. 

"No, just puzzling through something important," he said hurriedly. 

"Care to share?" You asked, walking backwards to follow the rest of your teammates and hoping that he would get the hint and walk with you so that your awkward conversation wouldn't end even more awkwardly. 

"What would you do if you thought someone was doing something bad, like, something really evil, but you weren't sure how to prove it?" he asked after a few seconds of deliberation, catching up to you with long strides. 

You spun around to walk beside him, answering without hesitation. "Well, I would quietly observe them until they slipped up, because guilty people almost always do, and then collect the evidence and give it to someone you trust to handle the situation. Because without evidence your claims are worthless."