Poisoned Youth | ✓

42- Crushing Crushes

In a surprising turn of events, Professor Slughorn invited me to officially join his Slug Club meetings; probably due to the fact that I had gotten full marks on every assignment he'd assigned over the last two months. I was overzealous, Ron was not. And Hermione talking about the upcoming Christmas Party he was throwing didn't help. Ron had rudely suggested that Hermione should sleep with Cormac McLaggen and be King and Queen Slugs.

"We're allowed to bring guests," said Hermione, who for some reason had turned a bright, boiling scarlet, "and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother!"

"You were going to ask me?" asked Ron, in a completely different voice.

"Yes," said Hermione angrily. "But obviously if you'd rather I hooked up with McLaggen..."

"No, I wouldn't," said Ron, in a very quiet voice.

I looked over at Harry with wide, awkward eyes and he only gave me a matching awkward grin. Looking away, I felt a blush fill my cheeks at the idea of going to the Sluggy Party— maybe this time Harry could actually pluck up the courage and ask me to this event.

Running up from the library, I heard angry, loud voices coming from the corridor where the short cut to Gryffindor tower was.

"—kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?"

It sounded like Ginny who could possibly be yelling at Ron.

"You—"

"Don't be stupid —" I heard Harry's voice; the previous one had been Ron.

"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" shouted Ginny, who sounded close to tears, as I inched towards them. "Hermione snogged Viktor Krum and I reckon Iverson's snogged that Durmstrang bloke—" They came into view and I saw them: Ginny looked broken, Ron looked angry, and Harry looked sad— "it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

Ginny turned and jumped as she saw me.

"Good luck with them," she mumbled and stormed away.

"What the bloody hell was that?" I breathed.

Ron narrowed his eyes at me while Harry widened them. Pushing Harry off of himself, Ron pushed past me as he made after Ginny, leaving Harry and me alone.

"Care to explain?" I asked him.

"Overprotective brothers," he chuckled dryly. "I don't get it."

Hermione and I almost clawed Harry's eyes out on the day of the first Quidditch match. He spiked Ron's morning drink with his liquid luck potion.

"Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!" Hermione repeated, alarmed; Ron picked up the glass, drained it in one gulp, and said, "Stop bossing me around, Hermione."

Hermione and I stood in the stands and watched the game. There was a rumour going about that Malfoy wasn't playing because he was ill. The teams walked out onto the pitch to violent roars and boos. Each end of the stadium was solid red and gold; the other, a sea of green and silver. Many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had taken sides too: Amidst all the yelling and clapping I could distinctly hear the roar of Luna Lovegood's famous lion-topped hat.

"Captains shake hands," she said, and Harry had his hand crushed by the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart. "Mount your brooms. On the whistle... three... two... one..."

The commentator made my blood boil.

"Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that Harry Potter's put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley's patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help..."