A couple of days later, during a quiet Monday evening at dinner, a distinct positive energy swept through a few of the Gryffindors over news of Harry getting his story out to press. He had shared the details of the Rita Skeeter interview with a chosen few, mainly restricting the information to loyal members of the D.A, and table was visibly in significantly higher spirits than usual.
"I honestly can't wait to see the look on Umbridge's face when you go public, mate," Dean Thomas said, still carrying a thick trace of looking awestruck.
Seamus Finnigan was sitting right beside his shoulder, and his ears were obviously, greedily catching every word Dean spoke, despite aggressively munching on his food and barely looking away from plate. To his view, the boys were talking with such excitement as if Potter had caught some Ravenclaw girl to snog in the corridors.
"It's the right thing, Harry," Neville Longbottom said from seat directly opposite him and Hermione. Albeit his own posture carried low spirit as well, no, his face was noticeably darker and more shadowed, he still went on in a low, determined voice. "It... it must have been tough to talk about that graveyard again... was it?"
"Yeah... it was, Neville. Reliving that traumatic evening again for journalist's quill..." Harry mumbled hoarsely, easily catching onto the unspoken behind his friend's words. He knew all about the tragic condition of Neville's parents now, and felt kinship with him, like a spirit bound by the same fate. "But people have to know what Voldemort is truly capable of, haven't they?"
"That's right," Neville said, nodding his head with a fervent nod. "And they need to know about his Death Eaters too... People should know who they are dealing with..." He left his sentence hanging in quiet air, slowly returning fork to his baked potato.
But even without him finishing the thought, both Hermione and Harry accurately knew the vengeful words he wanted to say about Lestranges.
Seamus looked up sharply at their huddle, but his eyes caught Harry's direct gaze, the Irish boy quickly looked right back down at his plate, jaw clenching in discomfort.
After a short while, Dean, Seamus, and Neville gathered their bags and departed the Great Hall for safety of the Common Room, leaving Harry and Hermione sitting alone at the table to wait for Ron and Lucifer, both of whom had yet to consume drop of dinner due to a grueling Quidditch practice session down on the pitch.
Hermione was getting a bit worried about her boyfriend's schedule. Lucifer had only ever missed house dinner once before because of Quidditch practice, and that had occurred just after Harry had been slapped with his ban from the sky.
Suddenly, Cho Chang walked into the Great Hall, accompanied closely by her friend Marietta Edgecombe. She cast a sideways glance at Harry's profile as she passed, and Hermione saw the raven-haired boy give an involuntary, awkward flinch.
Chang, however, kept her chin lifted high, purposefully never looking directly toward the Gryffindor table as she marched past.
Hermione turned her eyes back to look at Harry's flushed face. "You know... I know what you said about Cho's attitude in the village, but you were a bit tactless with how you handled speaking to her inside the shop."
"Me? 'Tactless?!" Harry asked, slightly outraged and thoroughly offended by her criticism, "Look at the blasphemy Hermione! One minute we were getting on fine over the sugar skulls, and very next she was casually telling me that Roger Davies had just asked her out, and how she used to go and passionately snog Cedric Diggory in that stupid tea shop last year! How was I supposed to feel about that kind of comparison?"
"That tea shop is not stupid, Harry. I once foolishly thought it was a bit ridiculous, but it's not... and you see," Hermione explained with the patient, clinical air of a professor explaining that one plus one equals two to an overly emotional toddler, "I know you tried to explain that you were coming to visit Lucifer and me down at the pub, but since she assumed you were just coming to see 'me' alone, you should have told her differently when the confusion first started... You should have said that it was really annoying, but that I had forcefully made you promise to come along to 'the Three Broomsticks,' and you really didn't want to go. You should have told her you'd much rather spend the holiday with her, but unfortunately, you thought you really ought to meet me for school business, and would she please, please come along with you? And hopefully, you'd be able to get away from our table more quickly? And it might have been a good idea to mention how terribly ugly you think I am too," She added with a mischievous smirk, throwing in the correction as an afterthought for Harry's lost romantic benefit.
Harry gave her a thoroughly odd, bewildered look behind his round spectacles, "But... I don't think you are ugly at all, Hermione... far, far from it. You're beautiful. I would never belittle you to anyone."
Hermione's face instantly burned with mortifying embarrassment, fingers tightening around her napkin, "Regardless of your personal compliments, Harry, the reality is you upset Cho's pride when you stated you were going to meet me, so she tried to make you jealous. It was simply her defensive way of trying to find out how much you like her."
"That's what she was trying to do?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing as he analyzed the dating logic, "Was it the same with you when Lucifer was spending time with Eve last year, or talking to all those other foreign girls during the Tournament?"
Before she could answer, Ron Weasley suddenly plopped onto the wooden bench directly opposite their seats, covered in dark mud from his boots to his hair, looking grumpy and exhausted. He quickly nulled every roast dish within physical reach straight toward his plate, chest heaving.
Hermione became entirely silent, her eyes looking straight down at the patterns in the wooden table, "I was furious whenever Lucifer spent his free hours with Eve or Fleur, or any other girl or boy for that matter," she whispered softly, her fingers tracing her ruby ring, "I don't like him looking at or talking with any other girl one bit. I was intensely worried when Professor Dumbledore asked me to become your hostage down in the lake last February... but... I admittedly tried to make him jealous when I agreed to be petrified."
"Well, it worked, because the bloke literally threatened me with severe bodily injury if I didn't bring you back safely from the Second Task..." Harry trailed off, letting out a sudden shudder at the memory, "When he realized you were trapped inside the Black Lake..." He shook his head, because according to Sirius's later report, he had unleashed a Magical vow right there on the wooden pier, and he would have lost magic if he hadn't come good on his promise to pull her.
"D-Did he truly make a threat like that for me?" Hermione asked in a small, breathless whisper, her heart swelling with sweet elation at how deeply concerned he was for her protection.
"Yeah, he did, and of course I agreed to his terms on the spot, what else was I going to say to a crimson-eyed demon?" Harry asked, laughing from hindsight.
Lucifer stepped through the double doors moments later, looking immaculate and not nearly as battered or muddy as Ron's disheveled state. He proved to be starving, though, when he forcefully took two plates of potatoes straight from Ron's side of bench, alongside seven other unclaimed meat platters.
Harry turned his face to look at the red-head whose food had just been ruthlessly snatched away, "So, how was the Quidditch practice today, Ron?"
"It was a living nightmare," Ron said in a surly, bitter voice, wiping mud from his ear.
Hermione turned her face to look at Lucifer for more information, "Was the team performance truly that bad?'
"Not nearly as bad as the rest of the players make it out to be in their heads, pet, but... Johnson was in open tears by end of the drills," Lucifer said cutting into his steak, "I think the only element that gave her Captain's heart some reprieve today was my abilities as Seeker."
xxxxxx
After dinner concluded, Lucifer and Ron went off toward the towers for hot baths, the former casually declaring to her that he would be using the Prefect's Bathroom on the fifth floor, but he wouldn't be gone nearly as long as the ginger since his skin wasn't as filthy.
Harry and Hermione returned through the portrait hole to the busy Gryffindor Common Room, instantly dropping down by their usual pile of homework. Thanks to her inhuman efficiency, hers was significantly less daunting. She had only just finished sketching the final alignment lines of her new Arithmancy star chart when Fred and George suddenly turned up by their table.
"Ron and Lucifer are not back here yet?" Fred asked, his eyes scanning the crowded room as he pulled up a wooden chair. When Hermione shook her wild hair to indicate their absence, he leaned in close, "Good. George and I were hiding by the stands watching their practice drills today... They are going to be slaughtered in any house match where Lucifer doesn't find the Golden Snitch within the first five minutes of the launch."
Hermione was currently sitting behind a large, heavy stack of 'Ancient Runes' textbooks. She peered over the top edge of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms, her brow furrowing. "Has Ronald not saved a single goal yet?"
"Well, the bloke can actually do it if he doesn't think anyone in stadium is watching him," George said, rolling his eyes in exasperation, "So all we have to do for Saturday's match is ask the entire crowd to turn their backs and talk among themselves every time Quaffle goes up his end of pitch."
Fred stood up from his chair, moving restlessly over to the high glass window to stare out across the frozen grounds, "You know... Quidditch was just about the only thing left in school worth staying for. But our Mum doesn't think so."
"Are you two still not even slightly worried about your upcoming N.E.W.T. examinations?" Hermione asked from behind her books, completely failing to understand the professional job of dangling your legs between a wooden stick. She had much rather enjoyed the historical idea of Parvati Patil giving her a ride on her family's Flying Carpet; at least that flight would make a girl feel like a real princess.
"No, George and I have more important business things to worry about than exams, Granger. The 'Skiving Snackboxes' are officially ready to roll out to the houses," Fred said in a proud whisper, "And thanks to your brilliant advice, we got rid of those nasty prototype boils on our skin. Just a couple of drops of Murtlap essence sorts the abrasions out. So, you, dear Granger, will be receiving a financial share of the profits after each month's sales. Lee Jordan put it onto the remedy..."
"And what happened to Jordan's skin? Murtlap essence strictly soothes and heals deep cuts and raw abrasions."
A familiar voice sounded right behind Hermione's shoulder before she could find the words to gently try to deny the Weasley twins' money offer, even though she knew the older boys were far too noble and kind-hearted to ever do anyone wrong, and wouldn't budge on her rejection. She turned her face and saw Lucifer walking into the Common Room, his hair damp from the bath.
"Well, he---" George started to say, but his eyes caught sight of Harry and Hermione violently spazzing out and waving their hands in a panic, his mouth shut down the truth, "He—er—he just got a bit cut up during Charms class today, mate."
"Well, she was right to tell you about the remedy," Lucifer said lowering down to sit right next to Hermione's cushion, "I've had to use my own feathers to heal skin more times than I'd like to admit in this place." His words caused her eyes to look up at his profile with quiet concern, but the girl said nothing.
"I dunno if I even want to watch Saturday's match..." Fred muttered, rubbing his neck, "If Zacharias Smith's team beats our score, I might literally have to kill m---"
"I recommend you to not jinx your own numbers at this specific time of the year, Weasley," Lucifer cut him off cleanly before he could finish raising another death flag right there, "It won't happen. I will not let Hufflepuff win."
Hermione felt freezing shiver go straight down her spine at the way with which he delivered the promise, "You know... that's probably the only trouble with Quidditch this year specifically," She murmured softly, leaning her head closer to his bicep, "It creates all this bitter, bad feeling and political tension between houses, which normally isn't problematic for the school. But with Voldemort back in a body, and return being denied by the Ministry, and we have this horrid, pink excuse for a Defense professor here... and it's our O.W.L. year... and D.A. club running... I just feel like the match is unnecessary layer of stress that's not needed right now."
"I hate to say the words aloud, because I do love playing Quidditch," Lucifer said softly. He raised hand, meticulously drying fingers before reaching up to gently rub her right cheek. The smooth touch caused her to instantly, happily nuzzle her face right against his palm, behaving exactly like an affectionate cat comforting its Master, "But you are right, Hermione."
Instead of reaching into his pouch to get out any of own homework, because he had already finished days ago, he offered to guide her, helping his gorgeous girlfriend sort through the massive stack of advanced 'Ancient Runes' assignments she had left to complete for the morning.
xxxxxx
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