[Songs of the Stormy Season]: Not With That Attitude, 2/7, Harry/Adrian Pucey, PG-13

[lomonaaeren]

“You didn’t tell me you were a Parselmouth.”

“Why would it come up during Quidditch? And anyway, until a few hours ago, I just thought that everyone could talk to magical snakes.”

Pucey blinked, hovering on his broom in front of Harry. Harry scowled at him. “I can’t stay long. I had to basically act like I was sick to slip away from Ron and Hermione. Let’s start practicing.”

“Why would you not know about Parseltongue?”

“I didn’t exactly grow up around a lot of other wizards, did I?”

“Huh?”

Harry sighed impatiently. Every minute increased the chance that Ron would try to open his bedcurtains, which Harry had spelled shut, and offer to get him a glass of water or something. “I grew up with Muggles. Are we going to play or not?”

Pucey gaped at him. Harry stared back. “You didn’t know that?” he added, when Pucey had remained silent long enough that it was really annoying.

“No—I mean, there were a few rumors, a few times someone said they’d met you in a Muggle place, but—”

“Well, it doesn’t matter much. Let’s play.”

Pucey gave him a glance now and then during this training session as if he thought it did matter that Harry had grown up with Muggles, but he had brought a Bludger and a Beater’s bat along with the Snitch, and Harry had to fly faster and pay more attention to the Snitch and the Bludger and Pucey all at the same time, and he didn’t really have time to worry about Pucey’s troubled expression.

*

“I don’t believe that you’re the Heir of Slytherin. You’re a good Quidditch player, and that’s all I need to know.”

Harry blinked at Pucey and pulled up to hover next to the Keeper’s hoop. Pucey had just knocked the Snitch out of the way of Harry’s reaching hand when he’d made that surprising declaration. The Nimbus 2001 was really a bit faster than the Nimbus 2000.

“All right,” Harry said slowly. “Thanks.”

Pucey nodded back, his face already settling into mask-like lines, and raised the Beater’s bat. Harry darted off and grabbed the Snitch out of the air. Pucey uttered a laugh that was almost bark-like and hit the Bludger at him anyway.

*

“Where are there bruises all over your torso, Harry?”

“Er.” Harry looked down and winced a little at the nasty blue-black one that covered his ribs. He hadn’t known that the Bludger that had almost hurled him from his broom had hit him quite that hard.

“Uh. Someone hexed me in the corridor.” Harry looked up at Ron with an expression he made as sheepish as he could. “You know. For being the Heir of Slytherin.”

“What! Who was it?”

“Some older Slytherin, I don’t know,” Harry said, with a shrug, and he quickly pulled his shirt back on and then the robe over it.

“Well, let me know if you see them again.” Ron scowled and rubbed his towel furiously over his scalp, which made the hair stick out as badly as Harry’s sometimes did. “That’s not on. We can’t have my best mate getting hexed in the corridors!”

Harry smiled at him, and made a mental note to dodge the Bludgers better next time.

*

“Why do you keep ending the year in the hospital wing?”

It was weird, really, when this had only happened once before, but Harry had been sort of waiting for Pucey. He shrugged helplessly, and then hissed a little as that pulled on the new scar that had formed over the basilisk bite. “I don’t know. Things just happen, and people would get hurt if I didn’t.”

“If you didn’t get hurt instead?”

“No!” Harry lowered his voice as he heard Ginny stir in the bed next to his. He didn’t want to wake her up. “If I don’t do something to help them.”

Pucey scowled at him for a few seconds. Then he grunted and said, “You’ll have to do better next year. You know we’re going to beat you next year.”

Harry laughed. “Then it seems like you wouldn’t want me to do better.”

“Want to win fairly, remember? That’s the only way.”

Pucey slipped out again a minute later, and Harry found himself oddly missing the playful knock on his head Pucey had given him last year. Then he went to sleep and forgot about it.