-Mine-( Harry Potter x Reader)

Chapter 9

"My baby's fly like a jet stream high above the whole scene loves me like I'm brand new. So call it what you want to."

-Taylor Swift-

-Call it What You Want-

Y/n's POV

The Quidditch pitch was a swirl of color and sound as I climbed the stands, my fingers gripping the edge of the wooden railing. Red and gold everywhere—Gryffindor banners waving proudly, faces painted, voices screaming, and I could feel the excitement vibrating through the ground beneath me. I pressed my scarf tighter around my neck, the crisp autumn air nipping at my cheeks, and tried to calm the flutter in my stomach. Today wasn't just any match—it felt like everything mattered.

Harry stood on the field, broom in hand, adjusting the straps on his Quidditch robe. His green eyes swept the pitch, scanning for the Hufflepuff Seeker, the Bludgers, the smallest glint of gold that might be the Snitch. Even from up here in the stands, I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched, the focus radiating off him like heat. My chest tightened in a mix of worry and pride.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" I asked quietly, glancing at Hermione, who had perched a few rows ahead with Ron practically bouncing in place next to her.

Hermione's brow furrowed as she followed Harry with her eyes. "He will. He has to. He's Harry. Just... don't take your eyes off him. Watch for the Snitch. That's all that matters right now."

I nodded, trying to breathe normally, but the pit in my stomach refused to fade. My eyes stayed glued to Harry as the whistle blew and the players shot into the sky like living streaks of color. My stomach lurched in excitement as the brooms lifted off the pitch, the wind whipping my hair into my face.

Harry darted forward, weaving around Hufflepuff Chasers, his broom smooth and sure under him. The crowd erupted, a roar that bounced off the castle walls, making my ears ring. I cheered with everyone else, throwing my arms into the air, feeling the adrenaline spike in my veins. My heart hammered, not just from the excitement but because I knew how much this mattered to him.

Then I saw it—a tiny flash of gold near the edge of the pitch. My heart jumped. The Snitch. Harry's eyes flickered to it, and I saw that familiar determination flash across his face. But before he could dive, the shadows fell.

A chill raced across the grass, a sudden hush spreading through the crowd. Dark figures swooped low over the pitch, their presence sucking the warmth out of the air. Dementors.

My stomach flipped, panic clawing at my chest. I could see Harry faltering immediately, his broom wobbling under the icy wind that followed them. A gasp rose from the crowd, students clutching scarves and each other as the temperature dropped. I felt it too, that cold seep into my bones.

"Harry!" I shouted, my voice cracking with fear. He looked up, eyes wide, and for a heartbeat, the world froze. His broom wobbled dangerously.

The Dementors glided closer, their empty faces hooded and menacing, and the crowd began screaming. The roar of the Gryffindor supporters faltered under the oppressive chill. I could see Harry faltering mid-air, his focus broken. My chest tightened so sharply it hurt.

Without thinking, I fumbled for my wand, fingers trembling. "Think of your happiest memory!" I screamed, desperate, hoping somehow he could hear me over the chaos.

Time seemed to slow. Harry's broom jerked violently, throwing him forward. His green eyes met mine, wide with fear, and I felt a surge of adrenaline. I couldn't let him fall. Not now. Not ever.

"Expecto Patronum!" I shouted, pointing my wand toward the Dementors, though part of me feared my Patronus wouldn't come in time.

A streak of silvery light burst from my wand, a brilliant doe that shimmered across the air. It raced toward the Dementors, flowing like liquid silver, and I watched, heart in my throat, as the shadows recoiled. The chill lifted slightly, and for a moment, I felt hope spike in my chest.

But Harry wasn't safe yet. His broom wobbled again, dangerously tilted. My stomach dropped—he was falling.

I bolted down the side of the stands, weaving between students, my wand clutched tightly in one hand. Every step sent my heart hammering against my ribs. I could see him twisting, trying to right himself, but it wasn't enough.

"Harry!" I screamed again, lunging forward, feeling like my chest would burst.

He fell.

I leapt instinctively, arms reaching, and caught him just before he hit the grass. We tumbled together, breathless, hearts racing. I pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid beat under my fingers.

"Y/n..." he gasped, dazed, voice shaking. "I—I think I'm okay."

I clutched him tighter, panic still clawing at me. "Your broom! You're hurt—are you sure?" My eyes darted to the shattered splinters a few feet away, the handle twisted grotesquely.

"I... I'm fine," he said, giving me a shaky smile. "You... you saved me."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. Relief, pride, and something else—the way he looked at me, vulnerable and grateful—made my chest ache in a strange, new way.

The crowd was a blur around us, murmurs and gasps filling the air. Madam Hooch arrived, face pale with worry. "What happened?" she demanded.

"The Dementors..." I began, but the words faltered as I realized how close we'd come to disaster.

Madam Pomfrey was already hurrying over, leading us toward the hospital wing. I held his arm as we went, every instinct screaming to make sure he stayed upright. My Patronus shimmered once more beside us, dissolving into a mist of silver sparks as we moved.

Once inside, the familiar smell of antiseptic and warm herbs wrapped around us like a protective cloak. Madam Pomfrey set Harry gently on a bed and began checking him over. "You're lucky she was here," she told him, glancing at me.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, still holding his hand lightly. "I should've—"

"You saved me, Y/n," he interrupted, green eyes meeting mine with quiet intensity. "That's all that matters."

For a long moment, we just looked at each other, the chaos of the pitch and the terror of the Dementors fading away, replaced with something quieter, more intimate. Relief and something unspoken lingered between us.

I sank into the chair beside his bed, heart still racing, thinking of the silver doe, of the Patronus, of how we had fought back the fear together. I knew one thing for certain: I would always be there for him. Whatever challenges came next, I wouldn't let him face them alone.

(1092 Words)