CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN;

THE SEA OF UNCERTAINTY

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Ron recovered remarkably fast. Madam Pomfrey believed it was because Harry had managed to pin the bezoar into his mouth so quickly; it had not given the poison any time to surge completely through Ron's body. However, despite his speedy recovery, Ron wasn't allowed to play in the upcoming Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match. Madam Pomfrey insisted he should not overexert himself, and apparently playing Quidditch fell under the tab of overexertion, so he was out for an undetermined amount of time.

   Much to Cassie's displeasure, Mclaggen took over as Ron's substitute. Harry, fortunately, told off Mclaggen every chance he got and was forced to continuously remind the boy that it was Harry who was captain, not Mclaggen, regardless of what Mclaggen may have believed.

   "I really think we ought to invest in some different uniforms and protective gear for our Chasers." Mclaggen, in spite of his deep hatred for Cassie (that was mutual on both sides) had decided that it was her he needed to convince in order to make some fundamental changes to the team. "You know, the brown padding is great and all, but it's not very effective. I think–"

   "Shut up and put on your gear, Mclaggen," Cassie muttered, throwing his helmet to him with a little more force than was probably necessary. He stumbled back; she smirked. Her attention was suddenly drawn to where had Harry stormed in. "Harry, where have you been?"

"Trailing Malfoy," he said in a low voice once she had approached. At her shocked expression, he only nodded grimly. "He's skipping this match, too. Isn't it fishy? Skipping two Quidditch matches in a row?"

   "Maybe a bit," Cassie admitted, biting her lip. "But we shouldn't focus on that now. We've got a match to win – You've got a pep talk to give."

"Right," said Harry distractedly, turning to face his team. "Hey, everyone. Well.. good luck out there, I know we've got the skills to beat Hufflepuff. Let's go."

"How encouraging, Harry," said Ginny, rolling her eyes and swinging her broom over her shoulder to follow the captain onto the field. Cassie did the same, though she now couldn't help but wonder what it was that had Malfoy so busy that he couldn't even fit bullying the Gryffindors into his schedule. Well, whatever, Cassie thought, she had a game to win.

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"That could not have gone worse."

   Cassie sat with her head in her hands – knuckles red and bruised from hitting a stray Bludger with her bare hands and blocking it from hitting an off-guard Ginny. Harry, however, hadn't been as lucky when it came to someone saving him from the wrath of a Bludger; he was struck right upside the head with one of Mclaggen's.

   "I'm going to pummel that git right back to where he came from," said Cassie now, glaring at Harry's unconscious figure on the hospital bed before her.

   "Mclaggen's been taken care of, Cassie," Ginny announced as she entered the hospital wing. She made sure to thump her brother on the head in passing before taking a seat next to Cassie. "Dean's told him off. Also, I doubt he's gonna be able to play again, so hopefully it'll shrink his ego."

   "Still, I want to punch him."

   "Oh, don't think I'm going to stop you." Harry lifted his head tiredly, rubbing his eyes and reaching for the wiry glasses on his bedside table. Cassie and Ginny were back to facing him in a split second. "Good morning?"

   "Harry, d'you remember what happened?"

   "Groggily."

   "Mclaggen got you straight to the head with a Bludger."

   Harry winced as if he could still feel the impact. "And Madam Pomfrey–?"

"Madam Pomfrey said a few choice words upon your arrival," said Cassie, biting her lip to keep from laughing at the memory of the Medi-witch's vulgarities, "but she says you'll be alright after a few days' rest."

   "I miss one Quidditch match and Harry ends up in the hospital wing. What's with that?" Ron pouted and crossed his arms.

"Oh, shut it, Ron," said Cassie, rolling her eyes. "Trust me; you didn't wanna be there when it happened. The crack was the worst part."

   "No, no," Ginny argued, "it was when his head made impact with his broomstick."

   "Or was it when he fell thirty feet and landed on the ground–?"

   "Can we not use my pain as a source of entertainment?" said Harry, rubbing his eyes. "Ginny, could you get me a glass of water?"

   As soon as the girl was out of earshot, Harry leaned in toward Ron and Cassie and lowered his voice, even though they were the only three in the hospital wing. "Did you find out anything about Malfoy?"

   "Nothing," replied Cassie, shaking her head. "He's left no trail behind, or anything. I've even pestered Nott about it–"

   "Nott? Theodore Nott?" Ron raised his eyebrows and sat up completely, a look of mixed emotions on his face. "You're mates with him, are you?"

   Cassie stiffened. "I wouldn't say 'mates,' no, but I do get some valuable information from him."

   "Right. In exchange for what, one kiss per bit of knowledge?" Ron said, narrowing his eyes. Cassie looked to him incredulously and turned to Harry for help, but he was suspiciously very focused on picking at the stray string sticking from his blanket.

   Cassie turned back to Ron and sniffed. "I expect he'll be asking you for tips on kissing me, then?"

Ron paled up to his ears. "Th-that was different! I was under a love p–"

"No, Harry, I did not find out what Malfoy was up to that had him absent from the Quidditch match," said Cassie pointedly, turning back to the Boy Who Lived with a bit more contempt than before. "Now, if you boys will excuse me, I've got a team to captain since Harry's out."

As she turned on her heel and left, she could have sworn she heard Harry asking Ron if Nott really was snogging her. For her own dignity (and also to keep them on their toes), Cassie did not turn around and deny the rumor.

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"C'mon, Hermione–!"

"No. Resolutely and unequivocally, no."

"It's one essay," said Cassie, jutting out her lower lip and holding up one finger to accentuate her point. "One essay! You wrote Harry's for him–"

"Harry was just in the hospital wing with a cracked skull," replied Hermione smoothly. She flattened out a bit of parchment, humming contently with herself.

Cassie glared at her. "Not to mention, you're in such a giddy mood since Won-Won and Lav-Lav are having a row and Won-Won's forgiven you, are you?"

Hermione froze for a millisecond, before continuing on with her humming and flattening of parchment.

"You git," muttered Cassie, shaking her head as she collapsed back onto the sofa. "You wrote Harry's – Harry's – and you won't write mine."

"That is correct," hummed Hermione.

"Harry!" Cassie called desperately, gesturing for the boy to come over. "Hermione here is playing blatant favoritism."

"Well, am I the 'favorite,' in question?" queried Harry, looking to Hermione curiously. When she shrugged, he grinned. "Then I don't have a say on this matter, unfortunately."

"Oh, screw Voldemort, I'll off him myself," Cassie muttered, glaring at Harry as he left to continue his Exploding Snap game with Ron.

"I don't think he'd mind if it was you," murmured Hermione absently, marking a scribble on her Arthimancy homework.

Cassie turned back to Hermione, her eyes narrowed. "Do you know something?"

   "Nothing at all," said Hermione. "My mind is simply a jar of Bertie Bott's Beans rolling around. No thoughts in this head of mine."

   "You sound like Ron."

   Hermione dropped the act quickly, a grimace flashing across her face. "Fine. Maybe I do. What's it to you?"

   "What isn't it to me?" replied Cassie, her eyebrows raised. "What do you know?"

"I know that Harry's never been as touchy with me as he has been with you over the past few weeks," said Hermione pointedly. "I've known him two years longer than you – granted, he did hate me for one of those years – but still, he's never been so.. touchy-feely. He saves that for you."

"Okay." Cassie blinked. "Where are you going with this?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And he's very... well, chatty, I suppose, when you're around. He's not a talkative person."

   "And?"

   "Oh, you daft– He fancies you!" said Hermione finally, leaning in and hissing the last few words. "Honestly, don't you have eyes?"

   Cassie took the news in silence. Her eyes flickered unwillingly to where Harry sat with Ron. Did he really fancy her? She mentally reviewed all the times she had managed to catch him gazing at her – but she had written them all off as coincidences. He couldn't possibly, truly and honestly, fancy her.

   How long had she wanted this?

   Before the happenings of the year before, Cassie would easily drop everything to say yes to Harry. She had been captivated by his alluring awkwardness since their third year. So why was she having so much trouble trying to figure herself out now?

"Cassie?" Hermione waved in front of her face. "You alright? You went all stormy-eyed again. I was afraid you were–"

"It wasn't a vision," Cassie assured her in a mutter, though she did feel the same diffidence that came as a side effect of the futuristic glimpses. "Just... thinking."

   "I say you should tell him how you feel," said Hermione gently, nudging Cassie's shoulder.

   "'How I feel?'" repeated Cassie, raising her eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean, 'How I feel?'"

   "Well, everyone knows you fancy him right back–"

   "Do I, Hermione?"

   "I– Do you?" Hermione frowned. "I've just assumed your little crush hasn't gone away since–"

   "I had a 'little crush' on him in fourth year. D'you know what's happened since then?" Cassie stood, gathering her things quickly and somewhat angrily. "Cedric's died. Voldemort's returned. I've practically disowned my mum. I lost both Atticus and my father in the same battle, only to be forced into forgiveness by the very Ministry in which they died. I'm not the same naive fourteen-year-old girl I was in fourth year, alright?"

"Is everything okay over here?" Ron looked between Cassie and Hermione in confusion, his hands spread and probably conflicted over who to comfort.

"Perfectly fine." Cassie bristled upon Harry's arrival and turned on her heel, storming up to her dormitory.

   She shut the door behind her, dropping her head in her hands. Why were feelings so complicated? Couldn't she just decide whether or not she fancied Harry on her own terms?

   And, to add salt to the wound, her head gave a great pang of ache.

   "No, Merlin, not now," she said with a dry sob, clutching her head. Perhaps if she held it hard enough, her consciousness would stay fixated in her own body...

   Her new tactic did nothing but add to the pain. Within moments, she was transferred into the future – only, when she looked around, it wasn't the future. And it wasn't her parents' past, like it had been a few times. It was her own past.

   She was sitting on the floor of an empty classroom, Harry at her side. The two were remarkably close in distance. Cassie watched the scene in repressed interest, not wanting to admit that she was curious as to why her subconscious had chosen this memory to bring into light. Current-day Cassie watched as past-Cassie's eyes darkened.

   "Ilikeyou," she said to past-Harry. Instantly, current-day Cassie groaned. "Like.. a lot. I-I mean, I fancy you. I do."

Present-Cassie dropped her head in her hands and felt herself flush in realization of what was to come. Harry's breath hitched, and for a moment, past-Cassie believed he was going to admit that the feelings were reciprocated.

"Don't say anything," said past-Cassie quickly. "Just.. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," said Harry – current-day Cassie heaved a soft sigh – "I should have specified when I asked you to the Yule Ball. I only meant as friends."

And, just like that, Cassie returned to her present-day self, a pit of dread growing in her stomach.

"Bloody hell," she muttered to herself, rubbing her eyes, "the universe has a scathing sense of humor."