Harry was very quickly outside and into the air; launching at a run off the bottom step of the main doors of the castle and soaring into the sky.
He flew in a lazy pattern to once again familiarise himself with his broom and its handling. However, it was not long before he was careening all over the sky performing feats of aerobatics that had those who watched him gasp in amazement.
For Harry, he was simply flying. He zipped, he swooped, he corkscrewed, he barrel-rolled. But, he was just having some fun.
He considered his most recent night and morning to be the greatest twelve-plus hours he'd ever lived. And his flying reflected that. It was even knowing his past twelve hours were only the beginning of the many, many hours doing the same thing that lay ahead of him that had him pulling off even more amazing stunts.
Up in the Gryffindor tower, three girls - two Sixth Years and a Fifth Year - were watching out a window in the Sixth Year girls' dorm.
"Damn it!" said a frustrated Quidditch team captain. "Why... the fuck... did we not do what we should have done and protected him?" she seethed.
"I don't know, Ange," sighed Spinnet. "But you can't say he wasn't right."
"No," grumped Johnson. "But, at least he was also right about the Weasley girl. She's good; just not―"
"Just not 'Harry Potter' good," completed Bell, the youngest of the three.
"Since he's flying," said Spinnet. "You don't think he'd now be―"
"No," Johnson snapped, immediately cut her off. "He's right. Besides, you heard what he said. He only continued to play because he didn't want to be yelled at by the House if he didn't; and he also thinks catching the snitch gives him something to do while flying. He hates Quidditch."
"We're just going to have to make sure the 'Weaslette' is the best she can be," said Bell. "If she doesn't pass muster, the House will turn on us next."
Johnson firmly said, "All of this is leading me to hate Quidditch. The next time I see Wood, I'm going to hex his bollocks off."
For the shortened Quidditch season, the games had been scheduled six weeks apart on Sundays. They were the 7th of February, the 21st of March, the 2nd of May and the 13th of June. The first two games had already been played, with the second played only the previous weekend.
Ravenclaw played Hufflepuff in the first. Hufflepuff had flogged Ravenclaw; which wasn't surprising, seeing as members of the Ravenclaw team were involved in what had happened to little Luna Lovegood and Professor Sinistra had booted them off in punishment. Slytherin then played Ravenclaw and, though they'd rallied late in the game, Ravenclaw again lost. However, the win by Slytherin was less than the points worth for catching the snitch.
Gryffindor would play Slytherin in the next game on the 2nd of May. It was well known the Slytherins would be trying to stack points onto their narrow win to try and win the Cup. And were also gloating about how 'Harry Potter' was no longer on the Gryffindor team.
Johnson was just grateful the two Gryffindor games were the last two. It gave her and the rest of the team as much time as possible to train their new seeker. They'd be concentrating on keeping the girl clear of the brutal play by the Slytherins. Even Malfoy, the current Slytherin seeker, needed to be watched.
Spinnet, realising what had been bothering her for a few weeks, said, "We need to get the Weaslette a faster broom."
Johnson sighed and said, "You're going to make me go and ask Harry to loan her one, aren't you?"
"Know anyone else who might be willing to loan her one?" asked Spinnet.
Johnson sighed and said, "I do not even know if Harry will loan her one. After Pig Weasley's behaviour..."
Spinnet said, "Oh; right."
_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ
By the time Harry needed to consider cooking dinner - and that evil, green-skinned mini spawn of Satan had better not try to steal his 'cheffing' time - both well-shagged teens were more or less back to normal.
Harry thought, for that evening he'd try his hand at another few French dishes. For starters, he prepared a French fish bisque for soup. For mains, he prepared Poulet à la Moutarde (chicken in caramelised Dijon mustard) with Pommes Dauphinoise (potatoes done Dauphin-style), steamed veggies, with dry gougères (cheese puffs) as a sort of bread for soaking up juices. And dessert was a simple French-style apple tart with sweetened whipped cream.
With all eight again sitting for dinner in the Potter apartment, the only noises were the occasional sounds of appreciation, as folks were too busy eating.
When on the final dish, the dessert, Fleur said, "Sans doute, 'Arry. Come this summair, you weel be cooking for us at Delacour Manoir. I inseest! Papa and Maman need to taste thees. It is... magnifique! You cook French dishairs even bettair than our 'ouse elves! Beesides anytheeng else, the idea of le gougères to soak up the sauces is also a clevair one."
Harry, as usual, blushed at the praise. The others were all starting to get used to his cooking, for which he was actually grateful, so while they still praised him it was not so overboard. Instead, they lightly chuckled or snickered at Fleur's reaction. They all knew why, having been the same themselves not too long ago.
"We all say those sort of things for the first couple of times when Harry cooks," said Hermione. "My parents didn't want him to leave when we moved back to the castle in the beginning of January."
"Monica did," he said.
"That's only because she was worried about her waistline," she returned. "You know she loves you."
"Eet ees vairy good!" said Fleur, between mouthfuls.
He didn't know if it was the food, that it was French, or that Fleur was only focussed on eating and tasting, but her accent was starting to slip again. He actually liked that it had that effect on her.
_‗_
―==(oIo)==―
ˇ
After dinner and the guests had left, the four sat on the sofas. This time, however, Harry was braced by Hermione and Fleur, with Hermione snuggling into his side. He hadn't even realised he'd raised his arm to drop around her until she pulled it in closer. Daphne sat on the closest end of the sofa brought in that sat perpendicular.
After they'd sat back in almost silence for a couple minutes, Hermione softly said, "Harry?"
"Mmm?" he asked.
Just as quietly, she said, "Thank you for letting me be your first. And thank you for being my first."
He frowned, just a tad, in confusion at that. "I have this urge to say, 'You're welcome'. But, it also sounds... tactless. Instead, I'll say, 'Thank you', right back."
"You're right," she chuckled. "It would sound gauche."
"How do you feel, now?" he asked.
"Very good, actually," she replied. "A lot better than I expected I'd feel, truth be told. Us girls were often told these... tales... of what we could expect both during and afterwards; especially for the first time. I do not feel any of that."
"I'm glad," he said. "It would gut me to know you were hurting and I was the cause of it."
She nodded, sighed and said, "Harry. I know we've talked about this. But, now you need to help Fleur. She's hurting because she needs to do what we did and only you can make that hurt go away."
Harry groaned before he sighed and looked to Daphne. "Daphne―"
Daphne smiled and said, "I'm not ready, Harry. I do not think I'm going to be ready for quite some time. I already know that is going to be beyond the time you need to help Fleur."
Harry thought about what to do and was actually mimicking Hermione's thinking habit of nibbling on his bottom lip.
Looking back to Daphne he said, "I don't ever want you think you have to do... that... with me. You don't. Ever. Understand?"
"I do," she smiled. "And, yes, I know."
Fleur leaned in and said, "I know what you're thinking, 'Arry. But, please believe me when I tell you, I do not. I really do want this."
Hermione sat back up and looked at her betrothed in the eyes. "Harry. She needs this. She is in pain because you are having trouble accepting it. Whether you accept it or not is not relevant. Only you can help her."
"You're sure?" he asked her.
.
.
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