Felix Felicis
Friday, November 1st, 1996
Over the course of the week, Draco’s friends watched quietly, and most times, awkwardly, as he attempted time and again to woo Slughorn once more, but every time he brushed him off. He hardly even noticed Harry these days, clearly connecting the dots of their first meeting over the summer and thinking he was conspiring against him as well. Which was true, but it still hurt.
In the meantime, however, the Quartet - or at least, the ones who paid any attention or care to Quidditch - had bigger things on their minds with the first match just around the corner, and while Draco was managing to, barely, pull together his time out of the rubble they’d descended in while he’d been preoccupied with Slughorn, Harry wasn’t having nearly as much luck.
There was a lot riding on his shoulders; if Gryffindor won, all controversy over him picking his best mate and his best mate’s sister would vanish, along with the murmurings in the hall that Harry had lost his touch, after the admittedly abysmal season all the Houses had had last year under Umbridge’s reign. But Harry ignored them with a high chin, as he’d done with a lot worse murmurings before (i.e. the theory that he was the Heir of Slytherin, and now everyone calling him ‘the Chosen One.’)
Now, Ginny, Katie, and Demelza made a perfect trio, and the Beaters, Peakes and Coote, while no Fred and George, were doing miles better than the replacements Angelina had gotten last year. The only problem, though it pained Harry to all ends to admit it… was Ron.
He simply couldn’t understand it. After a whole song had been written for him, and he’d gotten the girl he’d always wanted, why couldn’t he play well? Why did his nerves always get in the way like a Quaffle smacking him in the head?
“It’s the pressure, mate,” Ron confided in him on their walk to practice Friday night, the last before the game. “After that song Malfoy made” - he hadn’t gotten around to using his first name normally as well as Draco had smoothly started to transition to ‘Hermione,’ but Harry could tell the Ferret and Weasel were trying their best to feel comfortable about it all - “well, everyone expects me to be the ‘Weasley King’, don’t they? What if I let them all down? Blimey,” he stopped short outside the entrance to the pitch, turning slightly green in the face. “What if I let Hermione down?”
Harry, never having such nerves and lack of confidence himself, or a date he worried would look down on him for failing, (usually he was only worried Cho wouldn’t think he was cool, being so popular) couldn’t say anything to that.
Harry hoped, however, as he always did, this practice would be better. Certainly improved from last week’s, when Ron had gotten so flustered with letting in over six goals, he ended up punching Demelza in the mouth. He felt terrible, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d also lashed out on Tuesday, and Thursday, and Harry could only pray to Merlin he wouldn’t today.
That, sadly, was not the case. In fact, Harry had to call it quits within an hour and a half, as Ron hadn’t blocked a single ring (a great contrast to the song for which he was famed for), instead shouting in Demelza’s face that she could’ve killed him with her throw, which had, admittedly, nearly knocked him off his broom, but for that he was entirely at fault.
“ENOUGH!” Harry had had to silence his squabbling team with, as this simple shouting match had turned into Peakes looking to take a swing at Ron’s head, Coote wrestling with Katie for the Quaffle, Ginny looking ready to use her signature Bat-Bogey Hex on her brother, and Demelza in tears. How did they all get here? Harry scarcely knew, but he did know they all needed to go to bed, clearly. “Peakes, go and pack up the Bludgers. Demelza, pull yourself together, you played really well today, Ron…” He glanced around as the team stomped off to the rooms, Peakes on the grass wrestling the Bludgers, before turning back to his friend, and whispering in his ear, “you’re my best mate, but carry on treating the rest of them like this and I’m going to kick you off the team.”
For a split second Ron glared over at him, before switching over to a defeated slump, and sighing, saying, “I resign. I’m pathetic.”
“You’re not pathetic and you’re not resigning!” He shook his friend, tapping on the crown badge on his chest he’d bought from Draco for the whole team to wear in the hopes it would cheer Ron up sometime last week. It hadn’t worked. “You’re called the ‘Weasley King’ for a reason! You’ve won us plenty of matches. All you’ve got to do is get past this confidence thing. If people think you’re a King then own up to your reputation! Prove them right!”
Ron only frowned at him, and it was here Harry noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and knew he probably looked the same. They all really were exhausted. “I know you haven’t got any time to find another Keeper, so I’ll play tomorrow, but if we lose, and we will, I’m taking myself off the team.”
With that he walked away towards the changing rooms, and Harry couldn’t say anymore.
“Potts!” But he did brighten and turn around with a smile when he heard Draco’s voice, running towards him and, when they caught each other by the arms, leaning in to kiss his cheek - only Draco immediately sidestepped away, glancing around anxiously.
“What if someone -”
“No one’s here, I sent them away.” With a mischievous smirk, Harry leaned in closer. “We're all alone.” Again, however, and much to his disappointment, Draco stepped away.
“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, catching the disappointed look on his face, “But this is important; what are we gonna do about Bilius?” He pointed behind Harry, who turned around to see Ron had just stomped out of the rooms, kicking the box of supplies then yelping and grabbing his foot in pain. The rest of the team marched out and passed him by, completely ignoring his plights.
“I dunno…” Harry sighed, shaking his head. “He’s… He needs a good day, doesn’t he? It’s not just about a boost of confidence, but after what happened to Percy, he deserves one perfect day…”
He trailed off, his thoughts running wild. Draco must’ve noticed, because he turned his attention away from the alone, discarded, defeated Weasel back to Harry, raising his eyebrows in question at the clear expression of a plan forming on his face.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” Harry immediately said, turning away, but stopping to call, “I know how to help Ron,” over his shoulder, then jogging off, calling his best friend’s name as he ran. Draco only shook his head and turned away, hoping he could simply take Harry’s word for it.
-*-*-*-
Saturday, November 2nd
“After all these years you still can’t get them to quit?” Harry asked rhetorically as the Quartet entered the Great Hall the next morning, talking of the Slytherins who were persistently hissing and booing at the entering Gryffindor team.
“Why would I?” Draco predictably combated, sliding away towards his own team while hissing like a true snake. Harry merely chuckled lightly, shaking his head, and headed for the table, for once not being worried as Ron dragged his feet and hung his head beside him, because he had his plan worked out. Everything would be perfect. In fact, there was already a clear, pale blue sky ahead; a good omen.
Harry waved as his table cheered, grin broad, and Hermione leaned over to eye it with overflowing curiosity.
“What?”
“Nothing it’s just…” They took their seats, Hermione struggling to find words, clearly. “You never usually enjoy… all this.” Harry only shrugged his shoulders at her, humming a jolly tune he’d heard on Mrs. Weasley’s radio over the summer as he loaded his plate.
Meanwhile, all Ron could do was grimace weakly at the crowd.
“Cheer up, Ron!” They all jerked their heads around in confusion as Lavender Brown called out to him a couple seats down. “I know you’ll be brilliant!” Hermione shuffled closer to her boyfriend, glaring, but Ron kept his head down at his plate.
“Tea?” Harry asked him in a cheery voice which reminded him of Slughorn. “Coffee? Pumpkin juice?”
“Anything,” Ron said, and Harry busied himself with picking the right drink, while Hermione waved half-heartedly at a waving Luna (she’d never seemed to like her much), who had just entered, dressed in her usual headdress of a lion, having modified it to now include the snake she had been meaning to have originally. Harry had just meticulously poured the pumpkin juice and handed it to Ron when -
“Don’t drink that, Ron!” The boys froze, blinking at her.
“Why not?” asked Ron, but Hermione was staring at Harry, aghast.
“You just put something in that drink.” She said in a disbelieving voice of scandal.
“Excuse me?” said Harry, using his best ‘offended voice.’ He’d learned well from Draco.
“You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron’s drink. You’ve got the bottle in your hand right now!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry said smoothly, slipping the little bottle back into his pocket, but not before the golden liquid inside shimmered and his best friends both gasped.
“Ron, I warn you, don’t -”
“Hermione, I’m sick of you bossing me around!” Ron snapped, then gulped the drink down, to Hermione’s clear offense, and clammed the goblet down.
Glowering, Hermione bent towards Harry, whispering, “You should be expelled for that. I’d never have believed it of you, Harry!”
“Look who’s talking,” he taunted in a whisper back, tilting his head back and forth playfully, again a trick from Draco. “Confunded anyone lately?”
Hermione scoffed, pushed away from the table, and stomped off, but Ron didn’t seem to mind at all, instead smacking his lips and licking a finger he had just swiped around the side of his glass. Harry smiled and nodded happily at his handy work, and together they departed for the field with the rest of the team.
The Slytherins followed shortly afterward, led by Draco, of course, for the first time since Second Year, not all wielding Nimbus 2001’s (besides Draco’s Firebolt). Instead, with all the new changes to the team, Crabbe and Goyle still had their gifts to them by their own parents, of course, but Lucretia (or, “Lucky”, as the team had begun calling her due to her trick shots) whose family had fallen out of favor after her father disowned from her Death Eater Uncle and Aunt, could only afford a Comet 290, whilst Flora, who’s still very Death Eater-active parents disapproved of her playing Quidditch, bought a Cleansweep Eleven in secret. Harper wasn’t a big pure-blood name either, so was content with a Nimbus 2000. Blaise, however, was wielding a Nimbus 2001 fresh from the box with a wide grin.
Draco’s only regret in adding him to the team was that it now made him all too cocky, but he’d gotten better about pestering him with his relationship with Harry, so he really wasn’t that much of a burden anymore.
The two teams didn’t acknowledge each other as they split for their common rooms, but the buzz inside the Gryffindor rooms was certainly active, as each had woken up in a cheery mood - going along perfectly with Harry’s plans - and were all thrilled with the weather.
“It’s lucky, I call it,” said Ron, strapping on his shoulder pads with newly animated glee. “Hey!” he said suddenly, freezing as he tugged on his Keeper gloves to eye Harry suspiciously while his best friend blinked back innocently, mid tugging on his own fingerless Seeker gloves.
“What?”
“I… you…” Ron leaned in to whisper so silently only he and Harry could hear, eyes wide with possibility. “My drink… my pumpkin juice… you didn’t…?”
Adding to the innocent look, Harry now raised his eyebrows. “We’ll be starting in about five minutes, you’d better get your boots on.”
The stadium was already packed, and distantly, coming from the Gryffindor section (for the Slytherins had dropped the tune to fully support their fresh team and its possibility) Harry could hear notes of ‘Weasley Is Our King.’ Beside him, Ron swelled with pride, and punched his fist when Pansy Parkinson called out his name from the top box, where she sat beside Headmistress McGonagall, legs kicked up on the scoreboard, the magical megaphone once used by her boyfriend for an iconic number of years at the ready.
Then the Slytherins filed out, grinning proudly almost in a haughty way fit only for them, and Harry could only shake his head and try to hide his smirk when Crabbe and Goyle came out with their Captain on their shoulders, and Draco waved like a prince.
But not a king. The king was the ginger beside Harry, humming along happily as the teams lined up at the middle of the pitch as usual.
“Captains shake hands,” Madam Hooch ordered, hands on her hips beside the crate of balls, watching carefully as Harry and Draco stepped forward. As the two grabbed each other’s hands and squeezed tight, Harry should’ve guessed what the blonde was going to say next.
“Scared, Potter?” He raised one eyebrow high, and for a moment, they were twelve again, and it was their first match.
“You wish.” Harry growled, stepping back and mounting his broom as Draco did the same, eyes never leaving each other in mischievous competition.
“Mount your brooms. On the whistle… three… two… one…”
Fourteen blurs of scarlet and emerald burst into the sky, the Quaffle being thrown up among them but Harry dodged out of the way and followed Harper to his side of the stadium near the Keeper hoops, scouring the grass and sky for the Snitch, Draco following Ron and doing the same. All the while they could hear a voice they’d once found unbearably annoying booming out over them.
“And they’re off! Two very surprising teams, I think we can all agree on that one. Captain Potter and his controversial decision making regarding adding two more Weasley’s. You would think the Gryffindor’s have seen enough of them play Quidditch but one cannot deny talent, can they, Headmistress? Especially when you have a King in the family.”
A great uproar of ‘Weasley Is Our King’ rose out from the Gryffindors as the Slytherins booed Pansy with no remorse, Harry catching calls of, “Traitor!” as he soared over the sea of green. But, thankfully, her words had made Ron’s spirits soar even more, if that was possible, as while Lucretia tried to do a barrel roll and catch him by surprise with her throw, he knocked it away with a well aimed punch. Again, ‘Weasley Is Our King’ rang out around them. Harry noticed someone had even conjured up a charm that displayed the lyrics in the sky so that all of the sea of red could sing along.
“And there’s the first save from Mr. Weasley King of the season! And from a smart trick shot by Ms. Lucretia “Lucky” Carrow at that. I tend to agree with the nickname her team has given her. Speaking of which, there was some controversial decision making at first with that team as well. I can see why; as a proud Slytherin myself I can’t remember the last time we had a girl on the team, much less two. But as a woman myself I say YOU GO LUCKY!” This talk, however, got Pansy a stern look from McGonagall, as she had perhaps tiptoeing a bit too close to the line of bias. Not that Lee hadn’t taken leaps and bounds over it in the past.
To Draco’s credit, he had crafted an excellent team that was making a hard match for Harry’s own, and it was becoming very difficult for them to shout strategy at the Chasers and Beaters while scanning the stadium for the Snitch, but Harry could see a win just at the end of the tunnel as Lucky, Flora, and Blaise had failed to make a single successful shot with half an hour gone, but Gryffindor was leading forty to zero, and Ron was in a better, more confident mood than ever.
Truly, the saves he was making should not have been possible, which almost made Harry believe in the impossible.
With Ginny scoring all of the goals, this also nearly stopped the Slytherin’s booing of Pansy defending Harry’s choice of Weasley’s, though it could’ve just been apprehension as their own team didn’t look to be doing well.
But if Draco caught sight of the Snitch before Harry he knew he’d have a chance at stealing a victory.
“Peakes!” Harry shouted as Draco made a dive at the grass, oblivious to what was happening above as he had clearly caught sight of something below (he had; a brilliant shimmer of gold) and the little Third Year nodded, making a great wind up and swing at the incoming Bludger from Coote and redirecting it down to Draco. It rammed into him from the side and sent him spinning, so Harry was free to dive down and catch up to what the Slytherin had seen, but the Snitch had vanished.
Still, his hopes stayed high, as the tally of points for Gryffindor climbed higher and higher, Harper getting more and more agitated dodging back and forth between hoops trying to block the Quaffle, whilst Ron swerved around almost lazily, conducting his own chorus of ‘Weasley Is Our King’ at one point, and nearly missing Lucky’s trick shot this time…
But only nearly.
“Damn it!” Harry could hear Draco shout from above, and couldn’t help but grin, happy that even if by some miracle all this luck ran out and Draco caught the Snitch, he’d still be trusted for his Captaining skills after this match.
Grin not leaving any day soon, Harry soared up high beside his friend, circling around him tauntingly. “Still think I’m scared now, Malfoy?” He asked and the blonde smirked maliciously.
“Yeah we’ll see about that,” he said, circling him as well and flicking his fingers imperceptibly enough that Harry didn’t catch it as a signal, more like a twitch. “Like your little trick with the bludger, but we Slytherins prefer to be more subtle.”
Harry barely had time to connect the dots, much less make a smart retort, before Draco tilted his head and a bludger came flying right past it, ramming against Harry’s chest. He swore his heart skipped a beat as he spiraled backwards, nearly losing his grip on his broom, and Draco soared over him.
“YOU CALL THAT SUBTLE!” Forcibly righting himself into the correct position as the Gryffindors booed and the Slytherins cheered, Harry turned and charged after Draco, seeing, to his dismay and a sinking in his gut, a brilliant speck of gold against the clear blue sky, right where Draco was headed.
He had to think of a way he could Draco to slow down. The score had not yet reached above 150 for Gryffindor, which meant that if he caught it, they’d lose after all this work, and a win would be the cherry on top of an already perfect day that could not only boost Ron’s morale permanently, but cement Harry as a worthy Captain. But what could distract Draco?
“Oi, Malfoy! Are you a Snitch?” He accelerated so that the two of them were closer enough that he could whisper through the wind, “‘Cuz I’d love to hold you.”
It did the trick brilliantly. Draco’s face flushed bright scarlet, he tumbled back into the sky as he lost grip on his Firebolt for a second, and Harry accelerated ahead of him, reached out, and has the real Snitch caught in his fist within seconds, smirking down at Draco, who could only shake his head in wonder, trying in vain to clear the blush of his cheeks.
“YES!” Harry called as he spiraled back down to the grass where Katie and Demelza had already landed, bounding towards him and hugging him tight as he pumped his fist in the air, still tight around the Snitch. Up in the top box, Pansy announced, “Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins 270 - 0! Well done on Potter’s part, I must say.” She clapped politely, smirking, and McGonagall did the same, though noticeably looked a lot happier than an unbiased Headmistress should.
“Ron!” Peakes shouted as he landed, bounding over to the ginger who was landed on the grass with shaking knees, looking over the moon and like he’d been hit by a train all at once. “Ron, that was BRILLIANT!”
“Absolutely brilliant,” Ginny agreed, landing beside her brother and punching him in the arm, and, all enmity forgotten, the team hoisted their king onto their shoulders as all he could do was laugh in disbelief, punching both fists into the air.
In the changing room, the cheering didn’t end, as Peakes and Coote jumped on the benches and began reenacting Ron’s best saves, the girls watching and laughing at their antics.
“C’mon,” Ginny called to Ron and Harry as the rest of the team started to leave, “I heard Dean talking about a party up in the common room!”
“We’ll be there,” Harry assured her, then turned back to Ron, shaking his head and laughing as he high fived him.
“Harry?” He turned around. There stood Hermione, closing the door behind her and twisting a scarf in her hands anxiously, but not before Harry caught sight of Draco awkwardly kicking at the grass outside, fresh out of his Quidditch robes. “I want a word with you. You really shouldn’t have done it. You heard Slughorn, it’s illegal.”
“And so you’re just gonna turn in your best mate and your boyfriend?” Ron demanded, folding his arms defensively. Harry merely kept grinning, but turned away to hang up his robes so they wouldn’t see.
“What are you two talking about?” he asked innocently.
“You know perfectly well what we’re talking about!” Hermione exclaimed. “You spiked Ron’s juice with a lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!”
“He what?” Draco had clearly not been able to resist the drama any longer, as when Harry turned around he saw a blonde head had poked its way around the door.
“No, I didn’t,” Harry said with nothing whatsoever to hide.
“Yes you did, Harry, and that’s why everything went right; the weather was perfect, Pansy was rooting for Gryffindor, the wind flew Draco back away from the Snitch and Ron saved everything!”
“I didn’t put it in!” Harry declared, grinning like a magician who had just revealed the secret to his tricks, and slipping his hand inside his pocket to present a quite full bottle of the golden potion he’d been gifted on his first day of Potions with Slughorn, and had never opened since. “I wanted Ron to think I’d done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking.” He turned away from Hermione and Draco’s gaping faces to his friend, who was similarly staring at the very full bottle with wide eyes. “You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself.”
“There really wasn’t anything in my pumpkin juice?” Ron asked in a shaking voice. “But the weather’s good… like Hermione said… and Pansy, and the Snitch… I honestly haven’t been given a lucky potion?” he pointed at Draco. “You didn’t steal his?”
Harry shook his head. Ron grinned and turned to his girlfriend, imitating her voice proudly. “You added Felix Felicis to Ron’s juice this morning, that’s why he saved everything! See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!”
Hermione’s eyes widened with horror as he began to scowl at her. “I never said you couldn’t - Ron, you thought you’d been given it too!”
He wasn’t listening. Instead he strode out the door with his broomstick over his shoulder, pushing past Draco without a word. Draco caught a glimpse of him freezing by the exit, where a dark skinned, blonde haired Gryffindor girl he’d never bothered to learn the name of stood grinning flirtatiously at him. Shaking his head, Draco stepped into the changing room and closed the door behind him.
“I wasn’t blown by the wind, Hermione,” he explained. “Harry distracted me. And, believe it or not, Pansy likes all of you guys. Of course she believed in Harry’s team! She did come to watch people try out, didn’t she?”
Hermioned blinked up at him, surprised. “But… she said she was there for the ‘show…’”
“Well, yeah, because she was embarrassed. You were there in Hogsmeade two weeks ago, right? You saw how she acted.”
Hermione nodded, thoughtfully, and the three were silent. Harry thought he saw Hermione’s eyes glistening as she stared at Ron’s locker, which was hanging open, a moving picture of he and Hermione beaming outside of the Burrow, hand in hand.
“Er -” Harry had not been planning on any of this to happen, only wanting to give Ron a good day, not ruin his relationship, “shall… shall we go up to the party, then?”
“You go!” now it was clear Hermione was fruitlessly blinking back tears. “I’m sick of Ron at the moment, I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done…”
“Hermione -” She pushed back Draco as he reached a hand out to her and stormed out of the changing room as Ron had. They could hear her distantly call out, “Hey Lavender!” as Draco and Harry stared at each other in dead silence.
“That was low,” Draco mumbled, “and an awful pick up line.” Harry rolled his eyes and nodded out the door, rubbing shoulders with him lightly.
“C’mon, let’s go,” he said, exhausted, and the pair stepped out into the three o’clock sun.
Draco departed for the Slytherin common room, but up in the Gryffindor common room, still feeling sick with how his once brilliant idea had taken a turn for the worst, Harry entered the party sullenly, pushing past Romilda Vane and her girls, the Creevey brothers, and Seamus offering him (probably spiked) Butterbeer and instead headed towards the back, where Ron was sitting on the window sill, frowning up at Lavender Brown, leaned against the wall and batting her eyes down at him.
It was here Harry froze and connected the dots of all the various ways Lavender had swooned when Ron was around or cheered him on incessantly when everyone knew he had a girlfriend. Ron, however, looked oblivious, leaning ever closer to her as she bent her head down and played with her hands.
Harry swiped a drink off a passing try, collapsing into a chair and taking a long sip while watching them over his glass. He choked rather harshly when Ron leaned a bit too close and then, in a flash of movement, Lavender pecked him on the cheek.
Immediately, Ron jolted back as the girl began to giggle, and Harry coughed and coughed as he placed his goblet back down. He then heard a low growling, and looked down to see Crookshanks hissing at Ron, curled up beneath his chair. Meanwhile, Ron tried to stand but Lavender grabbed onto his hands forcefully. They were arguing now, so Harry turned away and stood, decided to look for Hermione, but not before he scooped Crookshanks up in his arms, knowing he’d no doubt make her happy.
The cat began to sniff at his robes and meowed something like a howl. Harry ignored him as he spotted his friend curled up in an armchair with a butterbeer tankard. At the sight of Harry with her half-kneazle she brightened and placed the drink down, taking the cat in her arms and happily hugging it.
“Thank you, Harry,” she said and he smiled. At least he could still do one thing right today.
“Harry!” He turned sharply. Ron had somehow managed to detach himself from Lavender and was pushing through the crowd towards him. He caught sight of Hermione and shrieked out, “HERMIONE!” quickly grabbing Harry’s arm and yanking him around, bending to a kneel behind the sofa, while Hermione was left to blink at her vanished friends in confusion, looking down at her cat, who looked just as confused.
“Ron, what’re you -”
“Sh!” Ron pressed a finger to his lips, glancing around worriedly, though, bizarrely, no one had seemed to notice them kneeling behind a couch, or otherwise found it completely normal for them, which yes, it probably was. “Harry, I’m a cheater.”
“What?”
“I’m nothing but a no good, low down, rotten, fat, ugly, cheating scumbug.” Harry rolled his eyes, realizing what he was talking (and overreacting) about.
“No, you aren’t. Lavender kissed you because -”
“And I let her! Which makes me a no good, low down -”
“Ron get over yourself,” they both jumped when Ginny’s voice appeared out of nowhere, turning to see she was kneeling in between them, Arnold the pygmy puff perched on her shoulder. “Harry’s right, she kissed you, which really makes her kind of a -”
“Hermione doesn’t know that!” Now it was their turn to shush him, Ginny adding on an eyeroll.
“She’s friends with Lavender, I’m sure if you just explain -”
“But -”
“Ron! Just explain! We’re girls, we can handle this.” He frowned, and didn’t look at all convinced, but when Harry grabbed his arm he forced him to rise to a stand and face his girlfriend, petting her cat, and blinking at him expectantly.
“Hermione I -”
“Lavender kissed you on the cheek and now you’re worried you’re a cheating scumbag but I saw it all so I’m not mad one bit and in fact I think the bigger issue is that you think I do not have confidence in your abilities as a Keeper when I do and I’m always super proud of you my problem is with Harry breaking the rules and now apparently Lavender Brown who only likes you because she’s trying to find a way to hide the fact that she obviously wants to snog Parvati but thinks jumping the Harry train wouldn’t prove she’s truly straight so is pretending to fall for the guy no one likes but I adore you Ron and am unconditionally proud so therefore I am not mad in the slightest and have learned to think things through and talk because we can never get along but I want to change that and be a good girlfriend for you.”
She sucked in a deep breath, and sighed. All of that was said in one breath and one sentence, Harry was sure of it, but by Merlin if it didn’t work, as he found himself smiling with relief as Ron rounded the sofa and practically fell into his girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her and snogging her deeply. Then he rolled his eyes to grimace at Ginny when the kiss lasted a little too long. Still, it meant his friends were together and happy and Harry had never felt more confident than in this moment that they would always be that way.
So, the kids decided to enjoy the party, even if it wasn’t a no-mystery-weekend, which is why hours later, when the party had died off with many headed up to their dorms, the Gryffindors sat around the fire, watching Crooshanks play with a yarn ball as Prongs barked at him in Harry’s lap, Hermione couldn’t resist bringing up a mystery.
“Why’d you do it?”
“Huh?” Harry looked up from running his fingers through his crup’s fur, to blink confusedly at Hermione, who was laying against Ron, laid across the sofa, and staring into the fire thoughtfully.
“Why did you make Ron think he had Felix Felicis? We’re all confident in your abilities, Ron,” she said, looking back at him, but he had drinked quite a lot of Seamus’s butterbeer that Harry was confident now was spiked as he released a snore. Hermione turned back to Harry, ignoring him. “So why would you make him think he had it if we both know he’d pull together in the end?”
Harry stretched his head against the cushions of the armchair he’d been leaning against. “Draco and I wanted to give him one good day after what happened with Percy. A day where nothing could go wrong, and all your endeavors succeed. That’s how Slughorn put it.”
“Right… Wait.” She suddenly jolted upright, and Harry blinked at her, confused.
“What?”
“Slughorn.”
“Yeah?”
“You said all your endeavors would succeed under Felix Felicis.” Harry nodded.
“Yeah, that’s what I said… Hermione, what’re you thinking?”
“It’s just,” she raked a hand through her mane of hair, a wild, mischievous grin beginning to spread across her face. “Draco needs a way of getting that memory from Slughorn right?”
“Right…”
Hermione leaned close to Harry, eyes alight with an idea. “So what if he used his Felix Felicis to get it?”
The words processed in Harry’s mind, and he beamed. “Hermione, that’s brilliant!”
And it was, for what could go wrong if Draco took a little bit of liquid luck to get that memory? Nothing. Nothing ever goes wrong on a perfect day, when all your endeavors succeed…
Not to mention, Harry thought with a small smirk as Hermione shook her boyfriend awake to tell him of her brilliant idea as well, Draco deserved, if nothing else, a day where nothing in his life could go wrong, and in fact, it all goes right. They all did.