this is a rougher rough draft. i'll edit it later, but i wanted to go ahead and get it out now(:
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Though the weather was getting worse by the day, the Gryffindor Quidditch team continued their long evening practices. Practices were still gruesome, but (Y/N) had gotten used to them enough that she wasn't sore every morning after. The Friday before their first game, Oliver Wood gathered all the players after breakfast, looking incredibly angry.

"We're not playing Slytherin!" he fumed, pacing back and forth. "Flint's just been to see me. We're playing Hufflepuff instead."

"Why?" asked (Y/N). She was in a bit of a sour mood; she could hardly sleep the night prior due to the thunder rolling through the hills.

"Flint's excuse is that their Seeker's arm's still injured," said Wood. "But it's obvious why they're doing it. Don't want to play in this weather. Think it'll damage their chances..."

(Y/N) wasn't looking forward to playing in the strong wind and heavy rain, either. They had practiced rain or shine, but never in a storm as vicious as the one that had sat over Hogwarts for the past few days. In fact, she thought it was rather clever of the Slytherins, though she'd never admit it aloud.

"There's nothing wrong with Malfoy's arm!" said Harry. "He's faking it!"

"I know that, but we can't prove it," said Wood bitterly, "And we've been practicing all those moves assuming we're playing Slytherin, and instead it's Hufflepuff, and their style's quite different. They've got a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory —"

Angelina and Katie giggled.

"What?" Wood frowned.

"He's that tall, good-looking one, isn't he?" said Angelina.

Katie nodded, smiling. "Strong and silent,"

"I don't know why you're worried, Oliver," Fred said impatiently. "Hufflepuff is a pushover! Last time we played them, Harry caught the snitch in about five minutes."

(Y/N) nodded, remembering how impressed she'd been with him that day. "It's true!" she added; unhelpfully, it seemed, for Wood was still livid.

"We're playing in completely different conditions!" he shouted. "Diggory's put a very strong side together! He's an excellent Seeker! I was afraid you'd take it like this! We mustn't relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin is trying to wrong-foot us! We must win!"

"Oliver, calm down!" said Fred, looking slightly alarmed. "We're taking Hufflepuff very seriously. Seriously."

Wood spent the next fifteen minutes giving Harry tips to counter Diggory, and then suggesting that (Y/N), Angelina, and Katie should get to the pitch a half hour early to practice flying in the storm (they all shared a look – they would not). He talked until Harry realized he and (Y/N) were ten minutes late for their first class, and she was glad for a reason to go. Wood shouted pointers after them as they raced down the corridors.

They skidded to a stop outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Harry hauled open the door, and they dashed inside.

"Sorry we're late, Professor, we—"

But it wasn't Professor Lupin who stood behind the podium.

"Snape?" (Y/N) blurted.

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor." His sharp eyes pierced them both. "Each. Take your seats and turn to page 394."

There were only two free seats left, both of them behind Ron. He had an empty seat beside him, but (Y/N) assumed that it belonged to Hermione and that she'd gone to the bathroom. She hurried to sit down, keeping her glare on her shoes so Snape didn't have a reason to take more points away.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" asked Harry.

"That's not really your concern, is it Potter? Suffice it to say your professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time. Turn to page 394."

(Y/N) opened up her book, not at all happy about it, as Harry found his seat beside her.

"Now, which one of you can tell me the difference between an animagus and a werewolf?"

Hermione's hand shot straight into the air, which startled (Y/N) a great deal; she hadn't even noticed her come in.

"No one?" Snape said lazily. "How disappointing."

"We told you," said Padma suddenly. "We haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on—"

"Quiet," he demanded. Slowly, his thin lips twisted into a wicked smile. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are..."

"Please, sir," Hermione lowered her hand. "An Animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal. A werewolf has no choice," she explained.. "With each full moon when he transforms, he no longer remembers who he is. He'd kill his best friend. Furthermore, the werewolf only responds to the call of its own kind."

From the back of the class, Draco demonstrated a werewolf's howl that made all his friends laugh.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape, his sharp eyes on Hermione. "That is the second time you've spoken out of turn, Miss Granger, are you incapable of restraining yourself or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?"

Hermione's shoulders hunched, and she lowered her head. (Y/N) didn't even need to see her face to know that it had gone red. Ron, who called Hermione an insufferable know-it-all at least twice a week, said loudly, "You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said decisively. "And as an antidote to your ignorance, on my desk by Monday morning, two rolls of parchment on the werewolf with particular emphasis on recognizing it."

Everyone groaned. (Y/N), who was still in a sour mood, and then, angry at Snape for what he said to her friends, had listened to what the older students said when they reckoned that Snape would do anything for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. And as such, she knew exactly what to say to get him where it hurt.

"But sir," she said. "You can't set any essays in a class that isn't yours."

Harry straightened beside her, and she could see Hermione and Ron both tense. Everyone else had gone quiet, too, watching Snape to see how he might react.

And though he glared at (Y/N) with a look that could kill, she only held his gaze, daring him to say the wrong thing.

She was disappointed when he only spat, "Detention, (L/N). And three rolls of parchment from you."

"But sir, it's Quidditch tomorrow!" insisted Harry.

"Then I suggest you and Miss (L/N) take extra care. Loss of limb will not excuse you," he said silkily, face very close to Harry's. "Page. 394."

And when Harry gave in and started flipping through the pages, Snape straightened. "The term werewolf is a contraction of the Anglo-Saxon word 'wer' which means man, and 'wolf.' Werewolf, man-wolf." He stepped behind Professor Lupin's podium as he continued on. "There are several ways to become a werewolf. They include being given the power of shape-shifting, being bitten by a werewolf..."

(Y/N) didn't listen to Snape; she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Instead, she flipped through the pages at her own pace, finding it very strange indeed that he was so insistent they jump ahead to werewolves the night after a full moon.

***

Sleep was hard to come by that night as well. It was still storming, and the winds had only grown louder. Rain pattered against the dormitory windows, and every few minutes there would be a loud clap of thunder that would startle her awake. At a quarter until five, (Y/N) gave up on sleep and headed down to the common room, a roll of parchment and textbook in hand.

She was halfway down the stairs when she noticed someone else was in the common room. She considered going back up to bed; she wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. But it was only Harry, and she could almost always talk to him.

"What're you doing up?" she asked, plopping down into the cozy crimson couch.

"Peeves woke me," Harry grumbled. His hair was, as usual, messy from sleep, and his eyes had started to have dark circles. "What're you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. And I thought I should get started on my essay, since I have one more roll than everyone else."

Harry grimaced. "It's not fair," he said. "Snape was being impossible—"

"I was a bit of a git myself," (Y/N) shrugged. "I kind of deserved it." She flipped her textbook open. "But to be fair, so did he."

"What's he have you doing for detention?"

"I'll be cleaning bedpans," she answered casually. "Without magic, of course. And first thing Sunday morning."

Harry still looked angry. So, to keep his mind off it, (Y/N) asked, "Have you read any more about werewolves?"

He shook his head. "Why?"

"I used to be afraid of them, but now I think they're sort of interesting," she said. "Mind you, if I ever see one I'm still running in the other direction, but–" She shifted closer to Harry, pointing at a passage in the book. "Lycanthropy is like an illness, and there's no known cure. And remember what Hermione said in class, that a werewolf would kill his own best friend without realizing? I've heard awful things about werewolves, but... I feel sorry for them."

She looked up, but Harry was still looking at where she pointed on the page.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm sure when you came down here you weren't in the mood for a lecture."

"No," Harry said at once. "It's fine. It was the first time I actually cared to listen," he laughed. "Probably because you were the one saying it."

(Y/N) felt her face grow warm.

A moment later, Harry seemed to realize what he said. His face went a violent shade of red and he hurried to look anywhere else. "I mean," he began. "Just that..."

She shook her head. "It was nice,"

Silence fell over them; for the first time it felt tense. (Y/N) hurried to find something else to talk about.

"Are you ready for the game?"

Harry seemed relieved. "A bit nervous actually," he admitted. "I was hoping the weather would clear up, but..."

As if to prove his point, there was a loud rumble of thunder.

"Oliver pointed Diggory out to me earlier," he said. "He's a fifth year,"

(Y/N) nodded. "Katie showed me him at dinner." Though she knew it was because Katie had thought he was remarkably handsome – which he was – and not because she wanted (Y/N) to be wary of an opponent. But Diggory was much bigger than Harry; taller and built with more muscle. She understood why he was anxious. "Don't worry, Harry. You've got the Seeker's build, so you have the advantage. Besides, you're the best flyer I know."

Harry smiled thankfully. Then, after a moment, he asked, "Are you ready? For the game, I mean."

"Oh, not at all – not with weather like this." She felt no need to hide the fact from Harry as she had from Wood. "l think they're mad to have us still playing."

But it was a testament to how popular the game was, for a few hours later, when it was still pouring and the match was about to begin, the stands were packed full with students. They were cheering, (Y/N) supposed, but she couldn't hear them over the roaring wind.

She had only just changed into her brand new scarlet robes and was already soaked to the bone. It was an effort to stand up against the wind; (Y/N) had no idea how they were supposed to fly in those conditions.

Still, at the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle, the two teams lifted off. (Y/N) found it quite difficult indeed to keep herself steady, and once she was in the air, she could hardly tell who was in scarlet and who was in gold. The Quaffle was next to impossible to spot. More than once, (Y/N) narrowly missed getting knocked off her broom by a Bludger and even then, it was only because George shouted at her to look out. Thankfully, Wood was doing an excellent job of keeping the Hufflepuffs from scoring and thanks to Lee Jordan, (Y/N) knew Gryffindor was up by a few points.

She had managed to score a few goals, but Herbert Fleet, the Hufflepuff Keeper, was very sharp. He did not fall for the tricks she practiced with Katie and Angelina. Fred was doing his best to distract him, aiming most of the Bludgers his way, but the strong winds made it next to impossible to keep anything on course.

(Y/N) glanced up at the sky just as lightning struck. Harry had disappeared in the clouds some time ago with Cedric Diggory right behind him. She hoped it would mean a speedy end to the game, but it had been ages and neither one of them had returned.

From somewhere on the pitch there was a scream, and (Y/N) turned to see Angelina flying straight into the ground, the back end of her broom in flames. She half expected someone to call for a timeout, but it never came, and Katie shouted, "(Y/N), here!" and threw the Quaffle to her.

She could barely catch it; the rain had made it slippery, but when she had a good hold, she took off at once for the goalposts.

Fleet watched her carefully, and (Y/N) eyed the tallest post. He was there in an instant, just as she hoped, and she threw it towards the post he'd left unguarded.

"(L/N) scores ten more points for Gryffindor!" exclaimed Lee Jordan.

There was hardly even time for (Y/N) to feel proud. The crowd screamed and gasped, not with enthusiasm, but in terror. (Y/N) turned to where hundreds of eyes looked to see a flash of crimson falling from the sky.

Before she could even scream, Dumbledore boomed "Arresto Momentum!" and Harry fell to the ground at a much slower speed. (Y/N) didn't even think twice as she raced after him and landed in the thick mud. She dropped her broom on the pitch carelessly, reaching his side before even Madam Hooch could get to him.

Harry looked pale, his green eyes barely fluttering open. (Y/N) crouched down beside him and pressed a gentle hand to his own. He was like ice to the touch, and she could feel him trembling.

"Harry?" She tried to wake him, but even as she shook him, he didn't react. She recalled the many warnings Lavender and Parvati had given about his tea leaves and tried to push them to a far corner in her mind. "Can you hear me?"

"How is he?" demanded Madam Hooch. She was running up to them, followed by an enchanted floating stretcher.

"I-I don't know," (Y/N) said, her heart racing. "He's not answering me."

There was a loud squelching sound and they both looked. Cedric Diggory had landed in the mud, smiling victoriously. Clutched in his fist was the golden snitch. Gryffindor had lost.

He took one look at (Y/N), then at the boy in the mud beside her and his bright smile faded. "Is he alright?" he asked, running over.

"Unconscious," Hooch answered. "I reckon those Dementors got too close."

"Dementors?" (Y/N) had known Harry would be alright on the train, when Professor Lupin had cast the Dementor away. She didn't know how long Harry had faced it then.

The rest of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams were making their way over. Wood looked absolutely distraught, though (Y/N) doubted it was because Angelina and Harry had been hurt.

"We'll have a rematch," said Diggory. "I didn't know he'd been attacked – I would have stopped sooner."

"No," said Wood, though glumly. "You lot won fair. S'not your fault..."

(Y/N) didn't care whether or not Hufflepuff won fair. "Will Harry be okay?"

With a wave of her wand, Madam Hooch had Harry on the stretcher. "We'd better get him to the Hospital Wing so Madam Pomfrey can take a look."

"I'll go with him," said (Y/N) at once.

Hooch nodded, though (Y/N) wasn't waiting for her approval, and she started toward the castle.

Madam Pomfrey was busy running around treating Quidditch players left and right when (Y/N) arrived at the Hospital Wing a few minutes later.

"More of you?" she asked, breathless. She was already magicking Harry onto an empty cot. "What's the matter, (L/N)?"

"He got attacked by a Dementor." (Y/N) followed after him, watching as Madam Pomfrey removed his glasses. His eyes were still closed, and if it weren't for the way his hands trembled, she may have thought he was only sleeping. "Will he be okay?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "He just needs rest.." She stood up, looking very cross. "Dementors on school grounds... goodness... he could have been killed..."

The thought made (Y/N)'s blood run cold. Madam Pomfrey must have noticed, for she suddenly looked very apologetic.

"He'll be just fine, (L/N), you have no need for worrying." She placed a jar of chocolate on his bedside table. "Have him eat some when he wakes; it'll take away the effects." Then, she added, "Take some, if you'd like. But leave enough for him." And then she left to tend to an injured Hufflepuff Beater.

(Y/N) couldn't eat chocolate; she was far too worried. She took Harry's freezing hand in hers, hoping to help warm him up.

It wasn't too much longer before everyone else arrived. Angelina only had a few scratches that were easily mended and came to check on Harry. Hermione and Ron burst into the hospital wing with Dean, Seamus, and the rest of the Gryffindor team (save for Oliver Wood) not a moment later.

"How is he?" asked Katie Bell.

"Okay, I think," said (Y/N). "Madam Pomfrey said to just leave him to rest."

Dean sighed in relief. "Good," he said. "I was starting to think maybe Trelawney was right about that Grim."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

"He looks a bit peaky, doesn't he?" said Ron. He held a lumpy quilt in his arms that was nearly the size of him.

"Peaky?" repeated George. "What do you expect? He fell over a hundred feet!"

"Yeah," Fred snickered. "Come on, Ron. Let's walk you off the Astronomy Tower and see what you look like."

"Probably a right sight better than he normally does."

(Y/N) and Hermione gasped. Harry had woken up at last.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione was quick to ask.

"Oh, brilliant," he pulled himself to sit up, grabbing his glasses from the table.

(Y/N) offered him the jar of chocolate. "Here, take some," she said. "It'll help,"

"Thanks," he smiled at her as he dug around for a few pieces.

George sat on the other side of his bed. "You gave us a right good scare there, mate."

"Well, you fell off your broom."

"Really?" he asked sarcastically. "I meant the match. Who won?"

For a long moment, nobody spoke. Harry seemed to understand. Then, finally, Hermione said, "Um, no one blames you, Harry... The dementors aren't supposed to come inside the grounds. Dumbledore was furious. After he saved you, Dumbledore sent them straight off."

"There's, uh, something else you should know, too, Harry," Ron began, unfurling the quilt he brought with him. "Um, when you fell, your broom sort of blew into the Whomping Willow and... Well it..."

The quilt unfolded to show what remained of his broom – nothing more than wooden splinters and shards. It didn't look like it could be mended, not even with the most skilled magic. It would never fly again.

"Oh," said (Y/N). "Harry, I'm so sorry,"

"It's fine," he said decisively.

And, though she could tell he was upset, they left it at that.