It was, Harry decided, bloody odd to be sitting in the stands next to Hermione while the Gryffindor Quidditch team took the pitch. Strange not to be out there with them, not to be reveling in the feel of air against his cheeks and the knot of excitement in the pit of his stomach. To be fair, there was a knot in his stomach, but it was not the familiar one he felt just before he entered that timeless place where he hunted the snitch.

No, this particular knot was the worry that he had not done all he could to prepare Liza for the game. Perhaps he should have forced her to train harder, to fly faster, to practice longer. Would his incompetence be what kept Gryffindor from winning the game, would it be what kept her from fulfilling her potential?

Harry heaved a deep and ragged sigh.

Next to him, Hermione squeezed his hand. “It will be all right,” she whispered.

“You sound so certain,” he said with a frown.

“I am. Ron is a good captain, and we’ve got a good team. You did your best. Don’t worry about it.”

“How can I not?” Harry asked with a wry smile.

“Relax,” Hermione admonished him. “This is supposed to be about having fun, remember?” She smiled impishly at him and for a moment Harry just looked at her. Then it occurred to him how backward it was to have Hermione telling him to have fun, and he laughed. “That’s better,” Hermione said with a nod as she turned back to the pitch, eyes moving automatically to the figure circling the goal hoops.

A little over an hour later it was all over. Liza had caught the snitch and Gryffindor had taken a healthy victory. Harry streamed down onto the grass of the pitch with the rest of the excitedly chattering student body. He elbowed his way through the crowd to stand next to Ron. Harry was smirking a little to see that Hermione had got there before him.

“Congratulations, mate!” he called to his red-headed friend.

“Thanks!” Ron shouted back, flushed with the exercise and success.

Harry turned to Liza, who was rather dazedly accepting the cheers and pats on the back of her team- and housemates. “I knew you could do it!” Harry said as he approached.

Liza looked up at him and blinked slowly before shrieking and throwing her arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she exclaimed.

“Erm, you’re welcome,” Harry said as he flushed and looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” Liza said once again before drawing back and flushing slightly. “I don’t think I could have done it without you.”

“I’m sure you could have,” Harry said. Liza just smiled at him before being drawn once again into the circle of admirers.

Later that night, during dinner, the Great Hall was filled with the noise of teenagers who had been celebrating, or trying to forget their sorrows, all day.

“What was all that about with Liza, eh Harry?” Ron asked as he elbowed his mate in the side.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said as he reached for the shepherd’s pie. He was pleased that he managed not to flush, since he knew that would make Ron think the whole thing had been something more than it was.

“Oh, I think you do,” Hermione teased. “I think you know exactly what Ron is talking about.”

“Liza was just saying thank you. She was just excited that she’d won.” Harry spooned up a large helping from the serving dish and stretched to put it back in its place.

“Oh, so that’s what they’re calling it nowadays,” Ginny remarked as she slipped in next to Hermione.

“Guys,” Harry moaned as he swallowed a bite, “it didn’t mean anything! Liza’s way too young for me.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Ron said, laughter crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I’d hate to have to warn you off. Can’t have you distracting my star seeker, Harry-old-chum.”

Ginny and Hermione giggled, but Harry rolled his eyes. “You have nothing to worry about, I promise you,” he remarked as he turned to his plate.

If Harry thought that was the end of the discussion, however, that evening in the common room he found that he was sadly mistaken. Dean and Seamus asked him when he would be asking Liza to Hogsmeade. This seemed to be a signal, for his other dorm-mates and several others gathered round and joined in. Harry was caught between blushing indignantly and laughing as much as everyone else.

There was no sign of stopping until Liza herself walked in and froze in horror. It was her gasp that drew everyone’s attention. Her face was bright red and there was a glittering wetness in her eyes.

“That’s enough guys,” Neville said as he stood and approached the girl. “Don’t worry, Liza, we weren’t making fun of you. We were just teasing Harry.”

“Why would you tease Harry?” Liza asked a small tremor in her voice.

“Why, because it’s his turn, of course. Just like last week was my turn and next week is Ron’s. Keeps everything even, you see. Can you imagine if we didn’t have a schedule? Why, Harry would get pranked all the time and the rest of us would be neglected.” Liza giggled at his faintly scandalized tone and he smiled at her. “Besides, Harry doesn’t have a girlfriend, and he’s never been caught hugging a girl in public,” Neville whispered to her.

“Oh,” she said, tears gone. “Well.”

“Exactly, you see. So we simply couldn’t let this opportunity pass.” Liza nodded and smiled again before waving to the group by the fire and continuing to the stairs leading up to the dormitory.

Neville returned to his seat and Hermione leaned forward and said, “That was really kind of you, Neville. Very thoughtful.”

Neville reddened a tiny bit but simply shrugged and said, “It was nothing.”

“Oh, I think it was. Maybe you like her, eh Neville,” Seamus wriggled his eyebrows comically.

“You can’t say that, Seamus,” Dean laughed. “It’s not Neville’s turn to be teased.”

“Yeah,” Harry said in a falsely whiny tone as everyone laughed. “I’m feeling neglected now.” The entire group laughed even louder, drawing complaints from other groups, including a group of fourth years trying to finish up a potions project due that Monday.

“So, Mr. Potter,” Severus said in a stern tone, seating himself as Harry took off his invisibility cloak and warily sat in the chair across from him. “Do I need to warn you against public displays of affection?”

Harry felt his mouth drop open and he was just about to make a vehement protest when he saw the glint of humor in the professor’s dark eyes and the smirk playing about the corners of his mouth. “Oh, not you too!” he exclaimed throwing himself back in the chair. “My house-mates have been teasing me about that practically since it happened.”

“Hmm, and what, exactly, did happen?”

“I just went up to say congratulations and she got a little over-excited,” Harry explained with a long-suffering expression.

“Ah, the infamous Potter charm.” There was, to his credit, only a trace of bitterness in his voice.

“Something like that,” Harry muttered.

Severus looked sharply at him. “I had wondered if you would come into that. Just don’t let it go too far. You are in a slightly different position than your father was.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Harry said quickly. “I know things are different now. And I don’t really—I mean there isn’t,” Harry flushed and pursed his lips.

Severus looked amused at his embarrassment. “I am certain Miss McFarland will be very disappointed to hear that,” he remarked, steering the conversation back toward its original lightness.

“Oh yeah, she’s devastated, I’m sure.” Harry rolled his eyes, but Severus didn’t miss the hint of relief in his voice.

Chocolate.

He had gotten Snape chocolate. What had seemed like a good idea now looked he did not care at all, when he did.

Harry sighed unhappily and scrubbed at his forehead, dragging his hand back through his already mussed hair. What could he do? There were no more Hogsmeade weekends until after Christmas, but even if there were, he still did not know what he could get. That meant there was no real point to sneaking into the village either. Harry sighed again.

The only thing he could think to do was write a note to include with the gift, and it still did not seem like it was enough. He sat down with some parchment and ink, trying to set his thoughts and feelings down on paper.

It was more difficult than it sounded, especially since Harry was not entirely certain what he felt. Crumpled bits of parchment littered the floor about him when Ron came up. “What are you doing?” the red head asked surveying the debris and the ink stain Harry had managed to get on the bridge of his nose.

“Nothing,” Harry replied without looking up.

Ron raised incredulous eyebrows and said, “This nothing wouldn’t have anything to do with why you were late meeting us in Hogsmeade would it?”

Harry glanced up, face unreadable. Ron sighed, “That’s what I thought. Good luck with it, mate.”

Harry blinked. “Thanks,” he said at last.

Ron nodded and turned to go back down the dormitory stairs, only pausing to say, “You should pick up the parchments a bit, or the others will think you’re writing love notes up here.” Harry laughed and picked up his wand, evanesco’ing most of the rejects before he settled back down to the current attempt.

Harry frantically groped in his trunk. He needed to find some trousers and quickly so that he could go meet Draco on the Quidditch pitch. He had managed to oversleep and spill on all his newest uniform pants and was hoping to find a pair from a year or two ago that still fit. Harry glanced up at the clock just as his hand closed around a waistband.

“Hah!” he said triumphantly, pulling the pants out and slipping them on. He noticed as he zipped them up that they were not last year’s uniform, as he had suspected, rather they were a pair that used to belong to Dudley. Against all odds, however, they were in reasonably good condition, having only one hole at the knee and a bright green paint splotch up the other leg. Hastily Harry cast a shrinking spell at the waist and snatched up his Firebolt as he ran out the door.

Draco sighed and leaned against the stands. They had skipped last week’s meeting because of the game, and Draco was surprised to find that he had actually sort of missed it. Resolutely he pushed that thought out of his head, determined not to think about it. No matter what happened, Potter was the enemy. He was just pretending to be Potter’s friend. It was important that he not forget that.

Draco sighed again and looked at his watch. He was always here before Potter, but the Gryffindor seemed to be later than usual. A moment later Harry came into sight, cloak thrown over his shoulders and flapping slightly in the breeze. As he hurried forward a larger gust caught the material and blew it open. What was that Potter was wearing?

“Morning,” Harry panted as he approached. “Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s all right,” Draco said negligently. “Is that a Muggle fashion?” he asked, curiosity suffusing his voice.

“Being late?” Harry asked with a puzzled frown.

“No, your trousers.”

“Erm,” Harry blushed, “sort of.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed fractionally as he noted Harry’s embarrassment. “Shall we play tag today?” he suggested, knowing Harry was less tense about that than Seeker’s Quidditch.

“You’re it,” Harry said tapping his shoulder and taking off.

“Hey! No fair!” the blonde cried as he, too, took to the skies.

“See you in class,” Harry said with a grin as he pulled the hood of his invisibility cloak over his head. Severus smiled slightly at him and swung the door open, stepping forward a bit as he did so. Harry slipped out and slunk around the door and right into Draco Malfoy.

Harry just barely managed not to fall down and ended up brushing heavily against the Slytherin’s side. Draco glared around him suspiciously. “Who’s there?” he growled.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said, drawing his attention. “I thought I heard someone out here. Did you wish to speak with me?”

“Ah, yes, actually,” Draco replied, glancing around at the seemingly empty hallway again. “I did have an inquiry to make of you sir. I wondered if I might have just a moment of your time?”

“You know my door is always open to you, Draco,” Severus replied gesturing for the prefect to enter his office.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against the wall for a moment. Thank Merlin he had not been caught!

Back in the potions master’s office, Severus and Draco were seating themselves on opposite sides of the desk. “Now then,” Snape said, “what was it you wanted to discuss?”

“I actually wondered if you know anything about Muggle fashions,” Draco confessed, an odd look on his face.

“Muggle fashions?” Snape repeated disbelievingly.

“Yes,” Malfoy confirmed. “Potter was wearing something rather odd yesterday and I wondered if it was something he had picked up over the summer.”

“Well, I know very little about such things,” Severus began in a dismissive tone, “but surely if Potter was wearing it, it is the height of chic. Did you ask him?”

“Yes, and he didn‘t seem to want to answer the question.” Draco said slowly, as though he were not entirely convinced. “Probably he was just embarrassed to be caught wearing it at school. I wouldn‘t wear anything like that. Muggles have such odd taste.”

“Well, they are Muggles.” Snape shrugged, all the while wondering what Harry could have worn to create such curiosity.

“That’s true,” Draco replied. “Thank you sir.”

“Certainly.”

Draco, however, was not entirely satisfied as he left. He felt certain that Snape knew more than he was letting on. But why would his head of house keep that from him? Unless he was doing it to protect Potter. Draco snarled. First his father, now Snape. Did Saint Scarhead need to steal everyone away from him?