CHAPTER NINE

Fresh air filled him like a balloon as Harry gulped it back. The grass was dewy and the sun was shining weakly on him. He felt alive knowing in less than two hours he would be up in the air. Even the Forbidden Forest looked welcome after his stint in the dungeons. His lessons with Dumbledore had kept things interesting, but there was nothing quite like being let out of his cage. Birds called to each other as he stood on the hill facing the forest. The blue of the sky was like a forgotten dream. For a second he could forget the crushing weight on his shoulders.

Dumbledore had shown him memories in the Pensive. He learned things about Voldemort he'd never known. From when he was a kid torturing other kids in an orphanage, to when he was amassing his armies and asking for a job at Hogwarts. Harry could feel the weight getting heavier with every new thing he learned. It felt impossible to believe he could beat him. Endless nights, he'd lay wondering why in the world such a heavy burden was placed on him. Why could only he defeat him?

"Harry!"

He turned to see Hermione and Ron running towards him. Grinning he opened his arms and Hermione flew into his embrace. She smelled likes books and something sweet, on top of her humanity. The warmth coming from her filled his very core and he felt himself relax. He'd missed them. Ron stood behind them sort of awkwardly but their eyes met and all the unsaid words were said. Hermione's warm tears leaked onto his robes and he gently untuck her from himself.

"It's good to see you Hermione," He said, smiling widely.

She rubbed her eyes and smiled back, "I missed you so much!"

"It's good to see you, mate," Ron said, his voice rather thick and hoarse.

"What happened, Harry?" Hermione asked, "We heard it had something to do with Malfoy but nobody would tell us anything!"

Harry felt a quick burst of heat. So Malfoy had kept his secret. That made him happier than he would ever admit, but now he was faced with a new issue. How could he explain his absence to Hermione and Ron?

"Dumbledore thought it would be good for me to take a break from such a stressful environment," Harry said quietly.

"But why didn't you contact us?" Hermione asked instantly.

Harry paused, stumped. Dammit he wasn't good at lying on demand! Ron was watching him keenly, his blue eyes hard like steel. They had both been worried and he knew he wasn't going to get off with some cheesy excuse.

"I- I couldn't," He said finally.

"What do you mean you couldn't?" Hermione asked shrilly, "Do you have any idea how worried we were? I was out of my mind with worry and Ron couldn't stop going in circles with our discussions of how to find you! I thought Malfoy had horribly injured you- or- or Snape had poisoned you-" She paused her chest heaving and Ron stole in to speak.

"I'm sure he had a reason, 'Mione."

"Then he should tell us!" She snapped, and fixed a fiery glare on Harry.

"I can't," He said softly, "I'm sorry."

"Can't," Hermione said, "Or don't want to?"

Guilt was written all over his face and she took one look before crossing her arms and looking away. Harry felt shame fill him as he watched tears escape her eyes so firmly fixated on the forest. He wanted so badly to tell her, but thinking about how she might react terrified him. For a long time nobody spoke.

"You can trust us, Harry," Ron said finally, "We're not the bad guys here."

"I-" He stumbled over his words, "It's not something I can easily tell! This- the- it's affected my entire life! I want to tell you-"

"Then tell us," Ron said.

Harry looked towards the forest, "I can't."

"Is it about your sickness?" Hermione asked quietly.

He said nothing.

"What's so bad," She whispered, "That you can't tell your best friends? We've been through everything with you-"

"Not everything."

His head was spinning. Again and again he could see the inside of his cupboard, the bars on his windows, the immaculately kept carpet as blows rained down on him. Inside he was a child shaking and crying, so scared to hope. He wanted to tell them! He wanted to scream out the truth! Every breath he took he could taste them though, he could smell their blood, their flesh, their sweat. It went down like a blend of instinctual urges and pain. How would they look at him if they knew? Would he see the same disgust he'd seen in so many other faces?

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, placing her hand on his shoulder, "Harry-"

"I can't say anything right now," He said roughly, "Just give me time Hermione."

"We'll always be there for you," She promised, "We'll listen to you."

"We've always believed you, mate," Ron said, "And we always will. I swear."

For a long time they just stood there, watching the sun rise and students pour from the castle. Maybe they understood some of the panic he'd been feeling, because they didn't ask any more questions. Ron filled him in on what the team had been up to (he'd been filling in as temporary Captain) and prospects were looking good. Hermione didn't talk much. She kept stealing glances at Harry when she thought he wasn't looking, her face filled with worry. His throat burned with words he wanted to say to make that face go away, but they wouldn't leave his throat.

They trudged down to the Quidditch pitch. Harry and Ron bade Hermione goodbye as they headed for the Gryffindor changing rooms. Inside the team greeted Harry cheerfully. At this point Ron was very silent and very green. Harry could see that his nerves were once again going to be an issue. After he gave his pep talk he pulled Ron aside.

"You gonna be okay?" Harry asked.

"Y-yeah," Ron said, swallowing nervously, "Just a bit queasy."

"You're going to do great," Harry told him, "I know you can do this Ron. I've flown with you, you're bloody brilliant when you don't let your nerves get in the way."

Ron nodded but didn't say anything, and remained silent as they left the changing rooms amidst cheers. Yelling was thunderous around them, but even through it all Harry could pick up Hermione's voice. He smiled briefly before surveying the green clad players. To his immediate dismay, he saw Malfoy was in fact not there. Instead there was some Slytherin he didn't really recognize, but he smelled hostile. Surprise, surprise; a Slytherin was hostile towards a Gryffindor.

His chest felt heavy as he mounted his broom. He really would have liked to seen Malfoy, to apologize. Where would Malfoy be even? He loved Quidditch. Something felt wrong and he could feel it in his gut. When he shook hands with the Slytheirn Captain he tried to search his face, to see if there was any worry or stress, but then again Malfoy had never mentioned him. In fact Malfoy didn't really mention any of the Slytherins. For a second Harry was caught up, but then the whistle blew and he was rising into the air like a bullet shot from a gun.

As the wind whistled past his face he felt it all go away. His hunger became a distant ache, his worries lost in the breeze. There was nothing but the game and his goal. He soared up and began looking, scouring the field for the Snitch. Occasionally he'd catch a glimmer of gold but more often than not it was a wristwatch or jewelry. On the other end of the field he could see the stand in Seeker searching. He clenched his teeth and looked away, filled with burning irritation. He had wanted to play against Malfoy.

Quickly the Gryffindors soared into the lead, but just barely. Harry could see Ron's green face even from across the field. He needed to find the Snitch quickly or their careful balance would go to hell. As he watched, Ron failed spectacularly at saving a goal. The Slytherin side erupted in cheers and Harry felt a flush of anger. He knew Ron could do this. The game was evening up now, the Slytherins only ten points behind. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit of panic as they pulled ahead. The more goals Ron failed to save the more he let in, his nerves getting worse and worse.

Harry was soaring across center field when he saw the Snitch. It was glittering and flittering around the Gryffindor goal, which the temporary Slytherin Seeker was near. Harry tried to make his way over as inconspicuously as possible. Everything seemed to stop as the Slytherin Seeker turned towards it, his eyes widening. Adrenaline pumped through Harry as he urged his broom faster, zipping like a hex towards the Snitch. He knew it was hopeless, the Slytherin Seeker was closing in, his eyes bright with pre-victory. Harry didn't think.

Stop.

The Slytherin Seeker froze so quickly he nearly fell from his broom. His entire form was shaking and his eyes had gone blank. Harry slowed for a second, confused and scared, but saw the Snitch was getting away. With the ghost of a smile he grabbed the Snitch. It fluttered helplessly in his hand and he knew. He knew this was one of the feelings that kept him going. For a second the pitch was dead silent, everyone staring in confusion at what had happened. Then it sunk in.

Instantly the pitch erupted in deafening cheers. Harry couldn't help but grin a little as his team zipped around him in mid-air. Ginny, long ginger hair and warm brown eyes, hugged him when he landed on the ground, bringing along a citrus scent. He held the embrace for a second before he pulled away and grinned at her. Coote and Peakes were yelling in his ear and he felt Ron ruffling his hair. It felt good, one of the best feelings he knew. The team carried up to the castle, singing and cheering.

The after party was good but it got old fast. Harry could smell the excitement of the humans around him and his stomach ached. Everyone kept pressing near him, squishing him into a tight cube of human smell and flesh. Romilda Vane in particular seemed to try and get him to eat pasties and drinks she offered. What bothered him most was the fact that he kept smelling Malfoy's scent, it was driving him nuts. He wanted to see him.

"Bloody brilliant game," Seamus was saying, "Still don't know why Harper filled in. I bet-" He stopped and gave Harry a quick look before turning to Ron, "You did great, Ron. That save where you kicked the Quaffle? Unbelievable."

Seamus, Dean and Neville had joined them to talk about the game. Around them students were talking and eating, a couple Gryffindors were even playing some instruments. Seamus's eyes were glowing with excitement. He had sandy blonde hair and a Welsh accent. Neville was round faced and brown haired, rather fatter than the others. Dean was dark skinned with amber swashed eyes and a sturdy build.

"I want to know why Harper stopped mid-flight," Neville said.

Ron grinned, "He choked."

"Did he though?" Dean wondered, "Maybe he threw the match."

"Threw the match?!" Ron said incredulously, "Why would he throw the match? The Slytherins need all the victories they can get!"

"A lot 'a people bet on matches. Maybe he had a deal with someone?" Seamus said.

"It definitely was weird," Harry agreed, "I don't know much about him but I didn't think he'd freeze like that."

"Either way," Ron said, grinning cockily, "A victory is a victory! The Cup has our name on it!"

Seamus snickered, "You sure you can keep your nerves under control."

He clearly hit a nerve because Ron went beet red, "You watch your bloody mouth!"

"Ron will do fine," Neville said suddenly.

Everyone stared at him for a couple seconds in silence before Ron spoke, "Uh, thanks Neville."

"I used to have issues with nerves," Neville continued, his voice growing stronger, "But the DA really helped me out and when we faced Death Eaters in the Ministry . . . I'm sure you can do this Ron."

"Yeah!" Ron said, "I bet I can!"

He grabbed a Butterbeer and took a deep gulp, grinning. Harry could tell he was trying to pump himself up and smiled. Ron was a good guy. As the conversation steered back towards the game, Harry watched Neville. He hadn't known he'd been so affected by the DA. It gave him a burst of pride to think that Neville had taken it to heart. Out of everyone Neville had practiced hardest and improved fastest. With a painful twinge, he remembered Bellatrix taunting Neville in the Ministry. To have come face to face with the woman who tortured his parents into insanity . . . A chill ran down his spine. Would he end up like Neville's parents?

Once again he could smell Malfoy as a girl brushed by him. Irritated his pinched his nose; his smell had to be off. There was no way Malfoy was in the Gryffindor Common Room. As the party went later into the night he kept occasionally getting whiffs of Malfoy. It seemed to be taunting him. He didn't know why some of the girls smelled like Malfoy but it was pissing him off. For a couple minutes he sat in thunderous silence wondering if Malfoy had slept with them.

"M-mate," Ron said awkwardly, "You're killing the treacle tart."

Harry looked down and saw he had squished the tart in his clenched fist, the sticky filling getting all over him. He muttered an excuse to Ron and left to enter the washroom. His mind was seething as he washed the treacle tart off of his hands. Would Malfoy sleep with those girls, Gryffindors to boot? Why else would they smell like him? Was that what he'd been doing during the match?! Harry jumped as the mirror cracked. He stared at his fractured reflection and realized how enraged he looked, like he was a different person. Heart hammering, he exhaled and tried to calm himself.

He was being irrational. Why did it matter who Malfoy slept with? It wasn't like he wasn't allowed to- to do what he wanted. Yeah, he was just being stupid. Harry splashed his face with some cool water. He needed to calm down. Malfoy was allowed to whatever he damn pleased. With a last glance at the cracked mirror, Harry stomped out of the bathroom. It wasn't his business who Malfoy shagged. Still, the irritating anger remained, chasing him even into sleep.

A/N I had a lot of fun writing this. Drop me a review, fav, or follow to give me feedback. (And in that order if you want). Thank you so much if you left a review. It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.