Hugs, Nargles, and Other Dangerous Things

Lee Jordan's voice boomed across the stadium, already several decibels too loud for this early in the morning.

"AND WE'RE OFF—Gryffindor charging in like they've had three Butterbeers for breakfast! Angelina Johnson with the Quaffle—Merlin's beard, I think she has had three Butterbeers!"

The crowd roared as brooms streaked across the pitch in a blur of red and green.

"And there goes Montague—yes, excellent use of the elbow, ten points from Slytherin just for being himself!"

"Look at that speed—those new Nimbus Two-Thousands-and-Bloody-Ones are no joke!" Lee bellowed. "Slytherin's moving like they nicked something and don't want Filch to catch 'em—"

"Mr Jordan!" came Professor McGonagall's sharp voice, somehow audible even over the crowd.

"Right, right—very sporting, the lot of them," Lee added hastily, as Malfoy and Pucey whipped past like a pair of angry hornets.

Ben spotted Cho sitting alone in the Ravenclaw stands, scarf wrapped twice around her neck despite the sun, hands folded stiffly in her lap. She didn't notice him until he sat beside her.

"Hey," he said quietly. "You alright?"

 "Hi Ben." Cho smiled faintly, not quite meeting his eyes. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"You've been avoiding me."

A pause.

"I know," she said. "I didn't mean to. I just—what I said in the Chamber... I keep thinking about it, and every time I see you, I—"

"You don't need to explain."

"But I want to." Her voice was soft, quick, like she was afraid if she didn't say it now, she never would. "I was embarrassed. I said things I shouldn't have. I wasn't thinking straight, and I thought... maybe you'd see me differently now."

Ben glanced down at the pitch, pretending to follow the Quaffle. "You think I'd hold that against you? After everything I did down there?"

She didn't answer.

He turned back to her. "Cho, I don't think less of you for wanting to forget it all. You were brave. Braver than most."

Cho looked away, face half-hidden in her scarf. "Still feels weird."

"Yeah. It does."

A gentle hush lingered between them as Lee yelled something about Flint flying like a "bludger-struck mountain troll."

"So," Ben said eventually, nudging her shoulder lightly, "I'm kinda bummed you don't want me to Obliviate you anymore."

She raised a brow. "Really?"

"Yeah, I had a shortlist of things I was hoping you'd forget along the way."

"Such as?"

"Well," he sighed, as if it physically pained him, "there was that one time I was late for Defence, running down the corridor, holding toast in my mouth like I was in some Muggle cartoon—tripped on Peeves' invisible ink puddle and slid directly into Snape's legs. Face-first."

"No!" Cho said in disbelief.

"I knocked over his entire armful of confiscated dungbombs. They went off. On him. On me. On the wall. I had toast stuck to my forehead and smelled like burnt cabbage for two days."

Cho burst out laughing. "Please tell me someone saw that."

"Two Ravenclaw prefects. One of them even took a picture. I was 'Toast Boy' on the back page of The Cackling Cauldron for a week. You never saw that?"

"No! And I don't believe you for a second," she said, struggling not to laugh.

"You shouldn't. I made the whole thing up."

"I knew it. You're such a liar, Brown."

"Made you laugh though, didn't I, Chang?"

She rolled her eyes, still grinning. "You're ridiculous," she said.

"And you're welcome," Ben said with a satisfied grin.

Their laughter fizzled into a comfortable silence.

Ben glanced at her. "So... we good? You forgive me for 'accidentally' making you tote around a cursed diary from the Dark Lord himself?"

"Maybe," she said, drawing the word out.

"Cool. 'Maybe' works." Ben leaned back, stretching lazily. "Now comes the real question: do we now awkwardly high-five? Fist bump? Emotional forehead touch? Hug it out and never speak of this again?"

Cho whacked him in the arm with her scarf. "Don't push it."

"Oh, you thought I was going for a hug?" Ben said, pulling a face like he was embarrassed for her. "That's so emba— OW!" He got an elbow to the side for his overacting.

"Very funny, HAHA," she said, not sounding scary at all. "I think we can shake on me tolerating you for a few more years." She held out her hand.

"Deal," said Ben, shaking it. "To me dumping every cursed object I come across on you."

Before Cho could respond, a dreamy voice floated up from behind them.

"Wise choice. Hugs attract Nargles sometimes—they make your brain go all fuzzy. Not that they aren't warm and lovely, of course."

Ben twisted in his seat to find Luna Lovegood peeking over the back of the bench.

"Luna—how long have you been sitting there?"

"Since the part where you claimed you were in The Cackling Cauldron," she said. "That was a lie. But a very creative one."

"Umm… what's a Nargle?" Cho whispered to Ben.

"It's best you don't kno—"

"I'm so glad you asked," Luna cut in, already beaming as she slid into the seat beside them.

"Oh boy," he muttered, as Cho's face cycled through confusion, curiosity, mild panic, and a look that clearly said: 'why did I ask?'

Down below, Harry spotted the Snitch and went into a steep dive—Draco Malfoy right on his tail, his Nimbus eating up the distance fast.

"And Potter dives—Malfoy's after him—look at those brooms go!" Lee cried. "It's a race between noble Gryffindor grit and filthy, rich broomstick privilege!"

"Mr Jordan!"

"My apologies, Professor, just calling it like I see it!"

Malfoy pushed closer, close enough to grab Harry's robes—but then pulled up at the last second, not daring to follow so near the ground.

Harry didn't stop. His hand shot out—and just like that, the Snitch was his.

"AND POTTER TAKES THE SNITCH!" Lee bellowed. "THAT'S THE MATCH! AND I DIDN'T EVEN GET A CHANCE TO INSULT MALFOY'S FACE YET! Gryffindor wins by a mile, and Slytherin... well, they tried. Let's give them a round of applause for remembering which end of the broom is the front!"

Cheers erupted from every side of the stands except Slytherin.

Down on the pitch, the Gryffindor team was already piling on Harry, who still looked slightly stunned to have ended the game so quickly. A few of the Slytherins lingered mid-air, clearly stunned themselves.

Draco Malfoy hovered near where the Snitch had been caught, fists clenched at his sides, face redder than a Howler. He yanked off his gloves and flung them to the grass with all the grace of a toddler denied sweets.

"He cheated!" Draco shouted to anyone who'd listen.

"Bet he blames the sun," Ben muttered.

Luna tilted her head. "I heard Malfoys are allergic to humility."

"Explains a lot," Cho murmured.

Top of the Slytherin stands, Snape's expression was unreadable—though the twitch in his left eye suggested he'd mentally hexed Lee Jordan at least three times since the match started.

Lee, for his part, was still basking in the aftermath. "What a play, what a finish! I don't want to say Gryffindor's better, but if broom speed were brain cells, Malfoy might've actually stood a chance—"

"MR JORDAN!" McGonagall snapped.

"Leaving now!" Lee chirped cheerfully, and the mic gave a final crackle before the commentary cut off.

They began shuffling out of the stands with the rest of the Ravenclaws. Luna kept close behind, still rattling on about Wrackspurts and mind-clarity techniques—like dancing barefoot like a Mooncalf while chewing peppermint to keep your thoughts from drifting out your ears.

"She knows she lost you halfway through, right?" Ben said under his breath.

"I'm not sure she ever had me in the first place," Cho whispered back, eyes wide.

Ben grinned. "C'mon. Let's get you something sweet before Luna starts offering memory-enhancing radishes."

-To be Continued...

Hey, don't make me make you eat memory-enhancing radishes, just remember to visit P@treon/DreamyApe for daily uploads.