A Star Is Born Chapter 41 (Patreon)

Chapter 41

The hotel was nothing like the Puddle Jumper. That was probably for the best. Harry had expected nice rooms, an open bar, perhaps a ballroom somewhere with enough tables to accommodate the players and their families. What Daniel Deverell had apparently meant by private accommodations was that Puddlemere United had taken possession of nearly an entire hotel.

Their Portkeys deposited them inside a wide marble entrance hall where several members of the hotel staff were already waiting. Navy-and-gold banners had been draped between the pillars. Floating signs marked PUDDLEMERE UNITED — PRIVATE EVENT pointed toward a broad staircase, and somewhere above them Harry could already hear music.

Conner looked around. “Now this is more like it.”

“You said that at the pub,” Jason reminded him.

“That was also more like it.”

Harry laughed. The event level opened directly onto a massive enchanted terrace beneath the night sky. A swimming pool stretched along one side, glowing pale blue beneath dozens of floating lanterns. Beyond it sat several smaller pools and steaming hot tubs, surrounded by lounge chairs and tables draped in navy and gold. Enchanted flames flickered inside glass fixtures without giving off any noticeable heat. Through a wall of open doors, the ballroom waited inside.

Enough food had been laid out to feed several Quidditch teams rather than one. Long tables disappeared beneath platters of roasted meats, potatoes, breads, desserts, and dishes Harry couldn’t immediately identify. Smaller tables surrounded a polished dance floor while music played from somewhere near the far wall.

Then Harry saw the bar. It occupied almost an entire side of the ballroom. His eyes stopped there.

Pucey noticed immediately and elbowed him in the ribs with a grin. “Found our room.”

Harry laughed. “I’m not sharing.”

“You say that now.”

Daniel stood near the entrance looking extraordinarily pleased with himself as the club poured onto the event level. “Before any of you disappear—”

Conner had immediately started walking toward the bar. He stopped as all eyes seemed to move towards him. “What?”

Snickers and open laughter followed while Daniel sighed. “Rooms are upstairs. Your names are already registered. Anyone on the organization’s guest list has accommodations if they want them. Players, staff, families, guests. Nobody needs to worry about getting home tonight.”

That earned several approving noises. “Food is being served until three. The bar will remain open until—”

Conner leaned forward eagerly.

Daniel looked at him. “Until they stop serving you.”

“Cowards.”

“And before anyone asks, yes, Puddlemere has the entire pool level privately reserved.”

Jason’s eyes lit up. Harry laughed. Before Daniel could continue, Oliver came through the doors behind them carrying the Championship Cup. Someone cheered. That was all it took for the chants to break out. “PUDDLEMERE! PUDDLEMERE! PUDDLEMERE!”

Half the room picked up the chant in an instant. Oliver lifted the Cup and another roar rolled across the terrace, and the party immediately began all over again. Players surged toward the bar. Families claimed tables around the ballroom and terrace. Several members of the training staff headed straight for the food. Someone turned the music louder. Conner and Jason disappeared toward the pool despite still being fully dressed. For the first time since the match ended, nobody outside Puddlemere United could get to them. No reporters. No photographers. No strangers shouting questions about next season. Just the club.

Harry found himself standing still for perhaps the first time in hours. He looked around. Ron and Hermione had already found the food. Hermione was making herself a sensible plate while Ron appeared intent on determining exactly how much meat could physically fit onto one.

Ginny stood near the pool talking animatedly with Charlotte. Molly and Arthur had somehow ended up at a table beside Coach Deverell, who looked suspiciously like a man being questioned by concerned parents rather than supporters.

George had found Conner and Jason. Harry stared at them. “That is going to end badly.”

Pucey followed his gaze. “Almost certainly.”

Fleur and Bill were speaking with Garrett near the terrace. Cho had been intercepted by the reserve players and was still getting teased about the chants at the Puddle Jumper. Then Harry spotted Demelza. She stood near the dance floor with a drink in one hand, slowly looking around the room as if she still wasn’t entirely certain she belonged there.

Harry smiled. A waiter passed carrying a tray of drinks. Harry took a Firewhisky. Then headed toward her. “Having fun?”

Demelza turned. “I’ve decided professional Quidditch is ridiculous.”

Harry laughed. “You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Harry looked at the drink in her hand. Butterbeer. He nodded approvingly. Demelza caught his look immediately. “I’m seventeen, not twelve.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You judged my drink.”

“I am your responsible adult.”

Demelza stared pointedly at the Firewhisky in his hand.

Harry followed her eyes. “Temporarily irresponsible adult.”

“That sounds more accurate.”

Harry laughed and took a drink.

Demelza looked around the terrace again. “This is what happens every time you win?”

Harry nearly choked. “No.”

“That sounded concerned.”

“We celebrate.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Harry gestured around them. “Definitely not like this. The Puddle Jumper is much more our usual speed after a victory.”

Demelza stared at him.

Harry grinned. “And before tonight fools you, it’s nearly always that insane there.”

“You’re telling me that pub is normally like that?”

“Minus the Championship Cup.”

“And hundreds of people chanting your names?”

Harry considered it. “Depends on how much Pucey’s had to drink, and how well we played that day.”

Demelza laughed. The song changed. It wasn’t slow, exactly, but it was considerably less violent than whatever had been threatening the ballroom speakers a moment before. Several couples drifted toward the dance floor.

Demelza looked at them. Then at Harry. A smile appeared. Then she caught his hand. “Come on.”

“Demelza.”

“Dance with me.”

Harry laughed. “Seriously?”

“I came all this way.”

“To watch me play Quidditch.”

“And it was brilliant. Now I want to dance.” She tugged his hand. “I want to be able to say I danced with Harry Potter the night he became a legend in professional Quidditch.”

Harry stared at her. “That’s horribly dramatic.”

“Good story, though.”

“I hate that that’s true.”

“And considering what you’ve promised to do to me during summer training, this might be my last pleasant memory of you.”

Harry pulled a face. “You make training sound like torture.”

“You make training sound like torture.”

“Only if you want to get good.”

“See?”

Demelza laughed and pulled him onto the dance floor. Harry went willingly. He knew how to dance well enough when somebody forced him to, but neither of them was particularly interested in anything formal. They simply moved with the music, Harry’s hands resting comfortably at her waist while Demelza looped her arms around his neck. For a few moments they didn’t talk. Harry looked around the ballroom. People were smiling everywhere. Not politely. Not because cameras were watching. Actually smiling.

Garrett had re-joined Fleur and Bill at a table. Charlotte had disappeared somewhere. Ron was apparently on his second plate already. Oliver still hadn’t moved more than several feet away from the Cup.

Demelza smiled up at Harry. “You know, I actually did try to pay attention.”

Harry looked down at her. “To the match?”

“No, Harry. To the architecture.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Smartarse.”

“I watched the Chasers.”

That got his attention. “Good.”

“Most of the time.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Most?”

“Well, your ridiculous arse kept doing stupid things that stole my attention.”

Harry laughed. “That does happen.”

“I noticed.”

She smiled. “But I really watched them. Formations. Spacing. How Pucey moves without the Quaffle. How Chandler drops back whenever everyone else starts pushing forward.”

Harry nodded approvingly. “That last note is important, he’s one of the best at that.”

“I figured. It seemed like he spent half the match fixing everyone else’s mistakes.”

“That’s basically Chandler’s game in a nutshell. He’s made a career out of it.”

Demelza glanced toward Garrett. “I’m going to have to watch the match again.”

“You should.”

“Several times?”

“Several.”

She groaned.

Harry grinned. “Summer training starts early.”

“Apparently tomorrow.”

“We’ll get to that.”

Demelza shook her head before her expression changed. “And then when Cho went in...”

Harry’s smile faded slightly.

“I thought I was going to be sick.” 

“Me too.” Harry admitted.

“I didn’t think she was going to catch it.”

Harry nodded in understanding. It was a lot to ask anyone. It was even more to ask for a reserve player.

Demelza looked toward Cho, who was now laughing about something beside Ginny near the terrace doors. “I remember her at Hogwarts. She was good. Really good, actually. But nothing like what I saw today.”

“She worked for it.”

Demelza looked back at him.

“All year. Every day. Robertson’s been brutal with both of us.” Harry took a breath. “I was scared too.”

“You didn’t look scared.”

“I was.”

Demelza waited.

Harry shrugged. “I knew if it went wrong, people would blame me. I was the one who pointed at her. I was the one telling everyone it could work.” He glanced toward Cho. “But in the moment, I barely thought about that. We needed a Chaser. Cho could catch the Snitch. So I moved.”

Demelza studied him. “You make it sound simple.”

“It wasn’t.” Harry smiled faintly. “But sometimes you don’t get enough time to be afraid.”

Demelza’s expression softened. “Watching her was incredible.”

Harry nodded. “She was.”

“And so were you.”

Harry groaned.

Demelza laughed. “No. Don’t do that.”

“You’re the second person tonight who’s going to make me blush with all this praise.”

“Good.”

“I’m supposed to be the coach here.”

“Tomorrow.”

Harry laughed. Demelza looked around the room again. Her smile slowly disappeared. “I want this, Harry.”

Harry initially thought she meant the hotel or the party. Then she gestured around them. Not toward the pool. Not toward the bar. Not toward the food. Everything. Garrett laughing with his teammates. Oliver guarding the Cup as though somebody might steal it. The coaches speaking with families. Reserve players celebrating beside starters. People Harry had spent an entire season training with, fighting with, losing with, and finally winning with.

“I want to play somewhere that cares this much when we win.”

Harry looked at her for several seconds. Then smiled. “Then let’s work.”

Demelza rolled her eyes immediately. “I knew you were going to say that.”

“Because it’s the answer.”

“You could’ve said something inspirational first.”

“That was inspirational.”

“That was three words.”

“They were very important words. Very wise.”

Demelza laughed.

Harry continued. “The answer doesn’t change. Not if you want to be great. Not if you want to be here.”

Her smile faded into something more serious. “I know.”

“Summer’s going to suck.”

“I know.”

“You’ll hate me.”

“I already do.”

Harry nodded. “Perfect.”

She laughed, and Harry spun her around him. When she came back to him, the song ended, and Harry just offered her a wink. “Tomorrow night, come by my place. We will talk training plans and start getting ready for the off-season. I will have a championship title to defend, and you will have a combine to prepare for.”

“You’ve just won the Championship.”

“And now we start preparing to win it again.”

Demelza stared at him. “So soon?”

Harry burst out laughing. “No rest for the wicked, I’m afraid.”

“You’re actually insane.”

“You figured that out about six hours ago.”

“Fair.”

They finally stepped apart. Demelza hugged him again. This time there was no cheek kiss. No teasing. Just her arms around him and a quiet “Thank you for bringing me.”

Harry squeezed her once. “Anytime.”

When she released him, Demelza glanced toward the Cup, now sitting on a raised table beside the dance floor. “And congratulations, Harry.”

He followed her gaze. The silver trophy gleamed beneath the enchanted lights. Harry smiled. “Thanks.”

Demelza disappeared toward Ginny. Harry watched her go for a moment. There was something satisfying about the look she’d had when she said she wanted this. Not envy. Not fantasy. Hunger. He knew that feeling. He’d spent most of the year living with it. Harry lifted his glass and finished the Firewhisky.

“Potter!”

He turned. Pucey was approaching with another. Harry accepted it automatically. “You’re becoming useful.”

“Don’t spread it around.”

Pucey nodded toward the center of the ballroom. Harry followed his gaze. The music had begun fading. Oliver stood beside the Championship Cup. Garrett was several feet away talking to Charlotte, apparently unaware that nearly every member of the team had begun drifting toward the dance floor.

Harry looked at Pucey. “What are we doing?”

Pucey took a drink. “Apparently we’re about to make Chandler uncomfortable.”

Harry grinned. “That sounds worth sticking around for.”

Oliver waited until the players, coaches, and most of their families had gathered around. Garrett finally noticed what was happening. His expression immediately became suspicious. “No.”

Oliver smiled. Garrett pointed at him. “Wood.”

“Too late.”

“I already gave a speech.”

“That was for reporters.”

Garrett looked around at the team. “You’re all terrible people.”

Pucey raised his glass. “We know.”

The laughter faded slowly. Oliver looked down at the Cup for a moment. Then at Garrett. “When I became captain, everybody kept asking me what kind of captain I wanted to be.” He paused. “I didn’t really know.”

That got a few laughs.

Oliver shrugged. “I’d been a Keeper, and I shouted at people. Apparently that qualified me enough.”

“Barely!” Pucey called.

Oliver flipped him off. Then looked back at Garrett. “But there are players you look up to, people you just know were born to play the game.”

Garrett’s smile disappeared as Oliver went on.

“Players who have been doing it longer. Players who know when to talk and, more importantly, when not to.”

Harry smiled.

“Garrett never needed the armband to lead this team.”

Garrett looked down in embarrassment at all eyes the on him. Harry knew he was never one for the spotlight, but this was his moment, his final moment with the team.

Oliver continued. “He covered for all of us. On the pitch and off it. He played eleven years. Every one of them here in Puddlemere.”

That earned applause.

“And today he finally got the one thing he wanted.”

Oliver reached back. Cho was already standing there with the Cup. Harry hadn’t even noticed her move. She handed it to Oliver. He carried it across the floor and stopped in front of Garrett. “You said you were done.”

Garrett nodded.

Oliver smiled. “Then you finish your career a champion.”

He handed Garrett the Cup. That broke the room. Applause swept through the terrace. Garrett stared down at the trophy for several seconds. Harry watched him swallow. Then Garrett lifted it over his head. The cheers began again.

“I really don’t have another speech,” Garrett began. “But I wouldn’t trade tonight for anything.” Garrett’s eyes settled briefly on the people around him. “Thank you.”

Everyone raised their glasses. Harry drank. Then drank again. The music returned. And approximately thirty seconds later, Garrett was thrown into the swimming pool. Harry had no idea who started it. He just knew Pucey and the Beaters were involved.

Garrett surfaced with murder in his eyes. “I’m going to hurt you, Pu—”

Garrett didn’t get to finish because Pucey nearly cannonballed on top of him. Pucey disappeared into the pool. The terrace erupted. That was apparently permission for everyone else to join in. Conner tackled Jason into the water. Charlotte screamed when Oliver swooped her up and carried her into the pool, careful not to upset her injury any further.

Harry began to back away, hoping to dodge the chaos, but soon he heard Ron’s familiar voice as a strong grip took him by the arm. “Oh no, you don’t, Harry.”

“Time to play with the big boys,” George agreed as they began shoving him to the water. Harry stumbled sideways directly into Cho. Cho grabbed him and prevented him from falling into the pool. For one glorious second Harry thought she’d saved him. Then she smiled.

“Oh, you traitor,” Harry said with a sigh.

Cho shoved. Harry hit the water. The cold shocked every bit of alcohol out of him for approximately half a second. He surfaced sputtering. “CHO!”

Cho stood at the edge laughing hysterically. Harry pushed wet hair out of his eyes. “You are dead.”

Her laughter stopped. “No.”

Harry hauled himself out.

Cho backed away. “No, Harry. It was a mistake!”

“You made your decision.”

“Harry!”

She ran. Harry chased her. They made it halfway across the terrace before Cho attempted to duck behind Oliver. Oliver moved.

“Captain!”

“Actions have consequences.”

“No, Wood, please! You were always my favorite!”

Harry caught her around the waist. Cho screamed. “No! No, no, no—Harry!”

Harry lifted her. She grabbed desperately at his shoulders. “You bastard!”

“Should’ve thought of that before pushing me in!”

“You deserved it!”

Harry jumped. They hit the water together. When they surfaced, Cho immediately shoved Harry under. He came back up laughing.

“You’re horrible.”

“You started it.”

“You chased me!”

“You pushed me!”

“You were going in eventually!”

Harry laughed. Around them, half the team was now in the pool fully clothed. Somebody had rescued the Cup. Hopefully. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy. Maybe he never had. The next hour blurred pleasantly. More drinks. Food somewhere in between.

Harry found himself sitting with Ron and George for a while. Then dancing with Ginny, and then with Charlotte, who’d changed into a bikini. Harry caught Garrett watching with a grin and suddenly had no idea where to put his hands. Charlotte, of course, gave him hell for it. Later, he lost what he was fairly sure had been an argument with Hermione about whether professional athletes should be allowed to celebrate by drinking alcohol directly from championship trophies.

At some point Molly left after kissing Harry’s forehead hard enough to embarrass him. Arthur hugged him. Bill shook his hand. Fleur kissed both his cheeks. “Enjoy tonight.”

Harry smiled. “I am.”

Fleur hesitated. Harry knew exactly what she was thinking. He shook his head. Not tonight. Fleur nodded. Then she left with Bill. One by one, the families began thinning out. Older relatives followed. Demelza found Harry near the bar sometime after midnight. She was leaving with Ginny.

Harry frowned. “Already?”

Demelza stared at him. “Harry, your eyes are starting to cross.”

“I can focus perfectly.”

“How many fingers?”

She held up three.

Harry squinted. “That’s entrapment.”

Demelza laughed. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Harry agreed.

Harry smiled. “Get home safe.”

She hugged him. “You too.”

Harry looked around the hotel. “I’m sleeping upstairs.”

“That somehow makes me less confident.”

Ginny laughed.

Demelza pulled away. “Goodnight, Champ.”

Harry smiled. “Goodnight, protégé.”

Something bright crossed her face. Then she was gone. Harry turned back toward the bar. There was another Firewhisky waiting. He couldn’t remember ordering it. He drank it anyway. The party continued shrinking. Not dying. Never that. The people left were simply the ones who had no intention of admitting the night was eventually going to end.

Pucey sat barefoot near the pool with his trousers rolled to his knees. Conner and Jason were arguing about who had spent more time underwater. Garrett had changed into dry clothes and was nursing a drink beside Deverell and Charlotte. The bruise on Charlotte’s side was impressive, but magic was clearly doing its work.

Oliver sat with the Cup resting between his feet. Harry smiled at that. Even now, he wasn’t letting it out of reach.

“You know, I think you have danced with every pretty witch in this place except me. I think I am offended.”

Harry turned. Cho stood beside him.

Her hair was still damp from the pool, curling slightly around her shoulders. She was wearing a black two-piece bikini that made Harry’s throat dry despite all the drinks he had that night. It was easy to forget how beautiful his teammate was considering she was always wearing bulky Quidditch gear.

“Night’s still young. I’ll scribble you in. Say, in thirty minutes?” Harry teased as he offered his hand and let her drag him towards the dance floor.

“Tosser,” she teased back.

Harry wasn’t as concerned about putting his hands on Cho’s hips. After all, Cho didn’t have a boyfriend to stare him down the way Garrett had. Instead, in his intoxicated state, he had to fight to keep from looking down at the witch and admiring her bikinit. Swallowing hard, he glanced towards Oliver and grinned at the easy topic of conversation. “He’s going to sleep with it.”

Cho followed his gaze, then laughed. “He absolutely is.”

“Probably tuck it in.”

“Kiss it goodnight.”

“He’ll deny it.”

“There will be photographs.”

Harry laughed. Cho smiled. For a moment, neither of them said anything as they swayed back and forth to the music. It was strange. They had spent the entire night surrounded by noise. Now Harry suddenly noticed how quiet this corner of the ballroom had become. Not actually quiet. Music still played. People still laughed. But it was all quieter now.

Cho rested her head on his shoulder, stumbling slightly.

Harry laughed as he helped her stay up. “You all right?”

She nodded. “I think so. Just a little drunk. A little overwhelmed. A little everything.”

“That sounds fun.”

Cho laughed softly before whispering, “I caught the Championship Snitch.”

“You did.”

“I’ve said that sentence in my head about a thousand times since it happened, and it still doesn’t feel real,” Cho admitted.

Harry smiled. “Well, wake up. It happened. You’re a great Seeker, Cho. You earned our win.”

“It could’ve been yours,” Cho said simply. “You would’ve caught it.”

“We might not have won even if I had,” Harry countered.

“You’re right,” Cho agreed. “I just couldn’t have done what you did. You called me a great Seeker, Harry, but you are a great player. Maybe one day, one of the greatest to ever do it. Changing positions at this level, in mid-game, during the finals. People might spend generations trying to replicate what you did, just to do it, but none may ever achieve it.”

“Now I am definitely blushing,” Harry joked but felt gratitude at her words. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was worth it.

“Don’t be a prat,” she said with a laugh. “Someone owes you the praise, and the rest of these guys all know it, but we all joke too much to give you your credit. No one else could’ve done what you did tonight.”

Harry leaned his head into her as he held her closer. “Thanks, Cho. That really does mean a lot.”

“I can be kind sometimes,” Cho joked.

“I think I like you more when you’re drunk,” Harry joked.

“I am not that drunk!” Cho said, pushing away from him and laughing as she swatted him on the chest. “You’re more drunk.”

“I can only aim to be as drunk as you,” Harry offered with a mocking bow.

“Competitive. I like that,” Cho said with a grin.

“Always,” Harry answered with a smile.

“Come on, let’s go rejoin the team,” Cho said, walking past him but bumping his shoulder playfully as she did.

Harry just grinned as he followed her back to the pool where the rest of the team was gathered.

Pucey was the first to strike. “Now that you two are done with your little moment, we can get back to what matters.”

Harry looked at the man questioningly while Conner and Jason raised their glasses. “Getting shit-faced!”

Nobody wanted to leave. So they toasted instead. The season. The five-match run. Wood’s shutout. Harry’s Rookie of the Year. Cho’s catches. Charlotte surviving approximately seventeen injuries. Garrett’s career. The Championship. Eventually Jason staggered upright and raised his glass. “TO POTTER’S MASSIVE FUCKING BALLS!”

Harry dropped his head into his hands. The team dissolved into hysterics.

Jason continued anyway. “THE MAN LOOKED AT THE BIGGEST MATCH OF OUR FUCKING LIVES AND SAID, ‘YOU KNOW WHAT THIS NEEDS? ME PLAYING A POSITION I’VE NEVER FUCKING PLAYED!’”

Harry opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Pucey raised his glass.

“To Potter’s massive fucking balls.”

“To Potter’s massive fucking balls!” the team echoed.

Harry laughed and drank with them. That was roughly where the night finally defeated the Puddlemere Beaters. Conner fell asleep face down on the table. Jason attempted to continue drinking with nobody listening. Between Harry, Oliver, and Cho, they managed to get both of them upstairs without killing anyone. It took twenty minutes. Possibly thirty. Harry wasn’t entirely sure. He was drunk. Not falling-over drunk. Not Conner drunk. But pleasantly, spectacularly drunk. Cho wasn’t much better. By the time they reached the top floor again after depositing Jason into the correct room on their second attempt, Oliver was carrying the Cup beneath one arm.

Harry stared at it. “You’re really taking that to bed.”

Oliver looked at him. “We can’t just leave it outside!”

Cho started laughing.

Harry pointed. “She’s thinking it too.”

“I am absolutely thinking it,” Cho agreed.

Oliver stopped outside his room. “You’re both children.”

“You kissed it,” Harry reminded him.

“There are photographs,” Cho added.

Oliver stared between them. “I regret everything.”

Harry laughed and pulled him into a hug. Oliver returned it immediately. For a few seconds, neither said anything. Then Harry clapped him hard on the back. “Captain.”

Oliver squeezed his shoulder. “Chaser.”

Harry laughed. Oliver turned toward Cho and hugged her too. “Hell of a catch tonight, Chang.”

“Hell of a gamble, Wood.”

Oliver released her. “Never let me do that again.”

“No promises.”

He shook his head and unlocked his door.

Harry looked at the trophy. “Goodnight, Mrs. Wood.”

Oliver slammed the door. Cho burst out laughing. Harry leaned against the opposite wall, laughing with her. Then it stopped. Not all at once. It just faded. For the first time since sometime that morning, there was no crowd around them. No teammates. No reporters. No music. Just a quiet hotel corridor in the middle of the night.

Harry looked at Cho. Her hair was still damp, curling loosely around her shoulders. She was still in her bikini, and that thought was way more distracting than Harry wanted to admit.

Cho caught him looking. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That was definitely something.”

Harry smiled. “Hell of a night.”

Cho leaned against the wall beside him. “Hell of a match.”

“Hell of a catch.”

She smiled. “Hell of a Chaser.”

They laughed. Then neither moved. Their rooms were only a few doors apart. Harry knew he should probably say goodnight. Cho seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Night, Cho.”

Still neither moved. Harry looked at her. Cho looked back. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the Championship. Maybe it was the fact that they’d spent the entire year flying beside each other, training together, laughing together, and tonight had somehow survived six hours of Quidditch together. Harry didn’t really know.

Cho stepped closer.

Or maybe Harry did.

He wasn’t entirely sure about that either. He was sure that in the space of moments he was kissing her. Harry almost pulled away, thinking he had done something stupid when she hesitated. Then, before he could get away, her hand caught the front of his shirt and she kissed him back. Whatever hesitation had existed disappeared immediately.

Harry’s back struck the wall. Cho laughed against his mouth. Harry kissed her again. Her arms slipped around his neck. When they finally separated, Cho stayed close enough that Harry could feel her breathing.

“That,” she whispered, “was probably a terrible idea.”

Harry smiled. “Probably.”

Cho looked toward the door beside them. Then back at him. “Goodnight?”

Harry glanced toward his own room. “Not a chance.”

Cho laughed. Then kissed him again. This time neither had any more hesitation. His hands caught her waist and pulled her body tightly into his. Cho’s fingers slid into his damp hair, pulling him closer while Harry backed her against the opposite wall without either of them breaking the kiss.

She laughed softly against his mouth.

“Still a terrible idea?” Harry murmured.

“Absolutely.”

Cho kissed him again before he could answer, her lips urgent and demanding. Harry grinned into the kiss, any lingering hesitation vanishing as he surrendered to the heat between them. Her arms tightened around his neck, pulling him flush against her as his hands found the warm, bare skin of her waist. Beneath his palms, the smooth curve of her sides felt electric, the thin fabric of her bikini offering almost no barrier. Cho shivered despite the warmth of the corridor, her fingers tangling in his damp hair to draw him even closer. Harry’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that felt more intense than anything he’d experienced during the six-hour match.

He broke the kiss just long enough to draw a ragged breath, but Cho didn’t let the distance last. Her hands caught the front of his shirt in a white-knuckled grip, dragging him back down with an urgency that left him nearly lightheaded. Harry’s palms found her ass, the smooth skin warm beneath his touch as she pushed away from the wall.

This wasn’t a retreat; she walked him backward with purpose, her eyes never leaving his. Harry went willingly, his own hands sliding up to the small of her back to spin them until she was the one pressed gently against the opposite wall. Cho’s surprised laugh was swallowed by a deeper, more desperate kiss. The distant roar of the celebration downstairs felt like a lifetime away, replaced by the frantic thrum of Harry’s pulse and the soft friction of Cho’s fingers against his chest. As he gripped her thighs and lifted her slightly, the realization settled in with absolute clarity: neither of them had any intention of ending this night at the door. Eventually Cho pulled back. Her breathing was uneven. Harry suspected his was worse. She looked toward the doors lining the corridor. Then at him.

“My room’s closer.”

Harry followed her eyes. Three doors away. He looked back at her. “Have you been measuring?”

“Shut up.”

Harry laughed. Cho caught his hand. There was nothing unsteady about her now. Nothing uncertain either. She pulled him down the corridor, and Harry went willingly. Halfway there he tugged her back toward him and kissed her again.

Cho stumbled into his chest with a surprised laugh. “We’re never getting there if you keep doing that.”

“You started this,” Harry said, moving down to her neck.

“I absolutely did not,” Cho said, shuddering slightly.

“You kissed me back.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“Feels fairly relevant.”

Cho shook her head, smiling. “You’re impossible.”

Harry laughed as Cho reached her door. She fumbled with the handle once, mostly because Harry was gently tugging at her earlobe with his teeth.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“I need to open the door.”

“But we are putting on such a good show in the hallway,” Harry joked.

Cho turned and kissed him hard enough to silence him, her lips a fierce, smiling challenge. Still locked in the kiss, she reached behind her, found the handle, and shoved the door open. Harry barely registered the room beyond as she stepped backward across the threshold, one hand still gripping the front of his shirt. For a heartbeat, she searched his eyes—a silent question that needed no voice. Harry answered with a smile, and she pulled him into the darkness.