A Hazy Shade of Winter

Inspired by Simon and Garfunkel – Hazy Shade of Winter

The sky was uniformly gray as Harry and Hermione -- bundled in scarves, gloves, and thick traveling cloaks – made their way across the grounds towards the distant Quidditch Pitch. Once in the stands they huddled close together for warmth, watching the players mount their brooms on the snowy field below. As the first whistle sounded, Harry realized how strange it was, to be watching a Hogwarts Quidditch match from the stands for the very first time.

Time, time, time | see what’s become of me…

The red- and blue-clad players swooped in and out of the swirling snowflakes, borne on the blustery winds. Harry watched with detached interest as the Gryffindor Chasers put one, two, three goals through the fifty-foot tall hoops on the Ravenclaw end of the pitch. Beside him, Seamus and Lavender were screaming themselves hoarse. Hermione, on the other hand, was strangely subdued; her brown eyes were fixed upon some distant horizon and she barely noticed when Ron plummeted thirty feet to retrieve a wayward Quaffle. Harry’s fingers itched to see the fluttering Snitch wend its way through the spectators, without thinking he reached out one gloved hand to catch it, but it flitted out of arm’s reach. Ginny who had been circling the pitch, eyes peeled for any sign of the Snitch, dived after it.

The match ended abruptly amidst a roar of cheering and rush of emotions. Ron disentangled himself from the merry-making Gryffindor team and steered his broom up to the stands to plant a kiss on Hermione’s cheek. Feeling unduly sullen given the outcome of the match, Harry trudged back to the castle through the knee-deep snow alone.

* * * * *

Ginny peeled off her red Quidditch cape and laid it carelessly over the back of Harry’s chair. “I’m exhausted,” she groused, flopping into an empty armchair and fixing him with a morose stare. “I miss the days when we used to play Quidditch together.”

“So do I,” Harry replied tersely, not looking up from Powers You Never Knew You Had and What To Do With Them Now That You’ve Wised Up.

“Oh, Harry! Do you always have to be this way? Can’t we have fun anymore? All you do is spend time with Ron and Hermione…and you won’t even tell me what you’re up to!”

“I thought you were friends with Hermione,” Harry said defensively.

“I am,” Ginny snapped back, “But any girl in her right mind would be jealous.” She waved a hand in front of his eyes, and Harry lifted his head and reluctantly returned her stony gaze. “Besides, you’re evading the real question, Harry. What is it you’re up to?”

Harry chose to ignore her, his eyes bored into the pages of his book and he found himself reading and rereading the same line. Arcesso vis vires; nvrb; a most useful incantation, used to tap into one’s well of inner strength, akin to the Patronus Charm. The caster of the Arcesso charm need only focus upon the image of his or her beloved --  Hermione’s visage swam unbidden into his mind’s eye.

“Well?!”

Ginny’s sharp voice broke the surface of his thoughts like a stone thrown into a serene lake. She had positioned herself squarely in front of him, her stance akimbo. Arcesso vis vires. Harry waited until he could ignore her no longer before speaking --  

“What do you want me to say, Ginny?! Don’t you think I’d rather be playing Quidditch and lazing around?”

“Don’t be crass with me!” Ginny’s face was rapidly becoming as red as her fiery hair.

Harry bristled with anger. “Fine! Be jealous of Hermione for being out there risking her neck with me so that you can stay here, safe and sound!”

“How can you say that?! You wanted to break up with me, Harry, with me. This isn’t what I wanted.”

“I thought you understood me, Ginny. But I misread you,” he said callously.

Ginny made a noise like an angry cat and stalked out of the room, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. He reformed his lips around the words. That was not what he had intended to say at all, yet he felt no remorse for having said them.

While I looked around | for my possibilities | I was so hard to please | but look around…

* * * * *

This time, there were no scaly, roaring monsters, no eruptions of jealousy and rage. Rather, falling in love with Hermione was like listening to the soothing words of a familiar song over and over, until Harry felt he could not live without hearing them. It was like watching the morning sun inch up over the eastern horizon and feeling its warmth spread slowly through his body. It was a thousand indescribable things and a thousand pains, for this was one thing Hermione Granger must never know…

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