Me and You // Ronarry {Discontinued}

Part 22

Hi, all! Sorry for the wait, but man, having almost no motivation + college is one heck of a combo. Anyway, this chapter managed to get written before my major drop in motivation. So it's still normal-ish.

Summary: Cormac McLaggen needs to stop; Harry has an idea

The common room looked rather peaceful after the clamor in the hospital wing. An ugly part inside Harry wanted to hurl something out the window, but Hermione's subdued voice bading him good night stopped him. He mumbled the words back and slumped into a chair by the fire.

So Dumbledore and Snape had had a row. About investigating the Slytherins... or perhaps one particular Slytherin? Harry shook his head, feeling a flash of guilt. His boyfriend had nearly died and here he was thinking of Malfoy again!

The next day, though, it seemed as hardly anyone was thinking of Ron. Given his luck with the bezoar, many thought no harm had been done and were more eager to discuss the upcoming Quidditch match than the possibility of a real killer among them.

Harry, however, had never been less interested in Quidditch; and interestingly, he wasn't quite as obsessed with Draco Malfoy, either. All he wanted was to be by his Ron's side until he left the hospital wing. But there were enough things on his mind like Quidditch practice and homework and —

"How's Weasley doing?"

— Cormac McLaggen. Harry gritted his teeth. With Ron in the hospital wing, Harry was forced to endure McLaggen telling everyone what to do and hinting very strongly what a much better Keeper he made.

"Probably better than me without you looming over him."

McLaggen's face turned an ugly shade of red and he stalked off, snapping at Coote and Peakes as he passed.

Ginny stepped up beside Harry, shaking her head. "You'd think he'd take a hint."

Harry sighed, shaking his head. "I wish. No, we're more likely to see Percy dancing in the middle of the Great Hall."

Ginny laughed. "Hey, will Ron be able to watch the match?"

"No. Madam Pomfrey said he'll probably get overexcited."

"Damn. I'd love to see his face when McLaggen does something stupid."

Saturday morning, Harry and Hermione went to the hospital wing to see Ron. He looked agitated but brightened considerably when he saw his friends.

"How are you feeling, Ron?" Hermione asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm all right. How's McLaggen shaping up?"

"He's bending the rest of us out of shape, if that means anything," said Harry.

"So I'm still on the team?" There was a hint of hope in Ron's voice that he didn't quite manage to hide.

"Of course. He could be world class and I wouldn't want to keep him. He keeps trying to tell everyone what to do, he thinks he could play every position better than the rest of us. I can't wait to be shot of him."

"Ginny's a second away from hexing him before he's even opened his mouth," Hermione added.

"And you're stopping her, right?" Ron grinned at her. "You are a prefect, after all."

"Of course I am." Hermione lifted her chin haughtily. "But I can't do anything if I'm not around," she added, and Ron laughed.

She glanced toward the door. "Come on, Harry, we better get moving."

"Right." Harry stood and picked up his Firebolt. "See you after the match," he said, giving Ron a swift kiss before heading out.

"Good luck," Ron replied. "Hope you hammer McLag — I mean, Smith."

Side by side, Harry and Hermione hurried for the pitch. On their way, they came upon Malfoy and two girls. Neither of them look happy to be there. Malfoy came to a halt at the sight of Harry. Then he gave a short laugh and continued on.

"Where're you going?" Harry demanded.

"Yeah, I'm really going to tell you, because it's your business, Potter," sneered Malfoy. "You'd better go back to your boyfriend, he'll be waiting for the Chosen Captain — the Boy Who Scored whatever they call you these days."

He roughly shoved past Harry and stalked off with the girls in tow.

Harry hesitated, wishing he could follow them. But he already took the risk of being late by visiting Ron, and Hermione was not likely to miss the match. So he sighed and let Hermione guide him away.

"When you said you'd see me after the match, I didn't think you meant like this."

Harry rolled his eyes. McLaggen had taken one of the Beaters' clubs and swung it at the Bludger — only to miss his target spectacularly. He wanted nothing more than to go and throttle McLaggen, but he doubted he'd be able to. Ginny would have finished him off by now. If Hermione hadn't turned a blind eye, that is.

"How much did we lose by?"

"Three hundred and twenty to sixty," Ron told him. A note of amusement crept into his voice, though it sounded slightly forced to Harry. "You know, I could hear the match commentary from here. I hope Luna always commentates from now on. Loser's Lurgy..."

But when Harry continued to lay there glowering up at the ceiling, his snorts subsided. A hand brushed his hair aside, extra gentle with the bandaging around his head.

"Cheer up," said Ron. "We still have a chance. By the way, how come you were so late to the match? Ginny said you arrived just in time."

"Hm?" Lulled by Ron's touch, Harry didn't register his words immediately. "Oh, yeah. I saw Malfoy with a couple girls. They weren't heading for the pitch."

Ron's hand paused mid-stroke. "You didn't follow them, did you?"

"I wanted to!" said Harry. "I could've caught them in the act of — of whatever it is Malfoy's up to."

Ron stared at him skeptically, then sighed. "You reckon he's sneaking off to Hogsmeade?"

Harry shook his head, which he immediately regrets as his head twinged. "He doesn't go through the secret passageways."

"Hm..." Ron looked lost. "Ask Sirius when you get the chance. He has a pretty good idea how sneaking around works."

"Yeah." Harry laid back down. If Sirius wasn't so preoccupied with the Order and dealing with Kreacher... Kreacher!

He sat up quickly, making Ron jump. "That's it!"

"What's it?" said Ron.

Harry glanced at the door to Madam Pomfrey's office. He'd best wait until she was asleep before carrying out his idea. "I can ask Kreacher to tail Malfoy," he whispered. "That way I won't have to risk missing class — not that I would!" he added quickly, for Ron had pulled a very Hermione-like expression of disapproval.

"You'd better not," he said. "Okay, Harry, you do that. And make sure Kreacher doesn't, you know, try to help Malfoy out."

"Good idea." Harry settled back down, feeling better now that he had a new idea.

Eh, not the best ending to a chapter, but oh well.

Apologies again for the long wait, but sometimes the words just don't kick in. Next up will be an extremely short and incomplete list of the remaining sixth year. Hope it comes out all right despite that.