“You’re angry”, Harry noticed. Lyra was actively fuming. Her emotions were always clear and easy to read, and now she looked like she wanted to strangle something.

“I’m not merely angry. I’m furious. That abominable umpire cheated us of two points, and I don’t even know what our Keeper was doing. I’m going to beat him into a pulp. We lost to Hufflepuff. Can you imagine that? Hufflepuff! When we lose to you, there’s at least some dignity in that. This is a humiliation”.

Putting it into words made her calm down somewhat. He took her sweaty hand in his and just held her. Her breathing gradually calmed.

“Thank you. For letting me be angry. I needed that. And thank you for being here for me and holding my hand. I feel better”.

“Sure. I might do the same next time we lose”, he smiled. “Even if we lose to you. Although, whining to you about losing to you might feel humiliating”.

“Oh, I will like that”, she snickered.

“I’m sure you will. But believe it or not, I might like it as well. It makes defeat hurt less when the scary girl you lost to lets you hold her hand”. He looked her at her silver eyes and watched her cheeks go pink. “But let me ask you something. Why do you play? Is it just winning? You don’t have to answer if it’s too private”.

“No, it’s ok. I like winning, of course. I like flying; especially fast, avoiding obstacles, navigating in space, where there’s danger of crashing into something and the stakes are high. I like the excitement, the adrenaline. I like spreading my focus wide, and still observing the details. I like the unpredictability of getting the snitch. It makes me feel like a predatory bird in the air, hunting a canary or a sparrow. I like feeling like a hawk or an eagle, parked in the air, seeing everything, hunting, ready to launch myself at the target”, she smiled widely, and her hand felt warmer as she was happy. “How about you?”

“It’s quite similar for me. I like the speed, the risk, the excitement, the adrenaline, the independence of playing my own game, making up my own strategy and rules, feeling in charge, hunting. I also like outsmarting the other seeker, seeing the snitch first, ending the game on my own terms. Also, my father played, and when I win, I like to think I’m making him proud. Losing sucks, though”, he shrugged.

“How do you feel when we play against each other? Losing to me. Beating me. I’d like to hear how it feels”, she looked into his eyes.

“It’s weird. I like competing with you, because you’re scary good at everything, and if I win, I have a feeling that at least I beat you at something, and you won’t think I’m a boring loser. But when you lose, I’m afraid you’re going to feel bad and I don’t want you to feel bad. I’m never letting you win on purpose, though. That would be disrespectful”, he smiled.

“Thank you. I don’t particularly like losing to you either. I like to win at least sometimes, because then I feel like I belong here with you, that we’re equals, that you won’t think I’m useless and weak and hold my hand out of pity. I want you to hold my hand because you’re proud of me, and nobody can be proud of a loser”, she winked.

“It’s strange to hear you say it, because it sounds so much like what I’m feeling. I feel like I have to prove myself in order to be here with you, that you won’t respect me if I’m not competent, sharp, successful”, he nodded in dismay. “I think we’re both insecure about each other, and I thought it was just me”.

“Of course we’re insecure. We’re both powerful, competent, dangerous, wealthy, famous and deadly, Harry. We’re not fluffy bunnies. We’re two eagles roaming the sky, predatory and dominant. We could kill each other. I’m not with you because you’re weak, or safe. You’re the only person who makes me feel insecure, makes me have to prove myself and earn my place. I hold your hand because I like the feeling of the most powerful, deadly boy I know holding my hand and being gentle. If it makes me feel like I have to earn the right to be here, I will earn it”, she smiled.

He kissed her hand slowly, respectfully. “You are really something, scary girl. I have never met anyone like you”.

She gasped and closed her eyes. “Next time you lose and vent, I’m kissing your hand.”

“Might be worth it. Having the scariest girl in the world kiss my hand would be quite something”, he grinned.

“Don’t lose just for the experience, though. It would be a shame”, she drew his hand towards her lips, closed her eyes and kissed it. He closed his eyes and shivered. “Wow”, he gasped.

“Tell me how it felt”, she whispered, eyes still closed.

He paused, collecting himself. “I’m not sure I have the words. It feels like we exchanged the deepest mutual respect I ever felt with another person, and I know Dumbledore. This was deeper. Lyra, if a war breaks out, we’ll be in the opposing camps. Fighting you would be like trying to kill my mother, were she alive, or Dumbledore. I feel like I’d rather let you kill me than fight you. We’re not doing a good job being enemies”, he smiled painfully.

“Wars come and go. People change allegiances. This stays”, she smiled. “And yes, if we ever get to fight in a war, I’ll let you kill me”.

…

Harry winced at the memory. A few years later, he would be holding her bleeding body on the bathroom floor and begging for her life. And why, because he was a fool and wanted to try something with some safe girl, who’s not a scary enemy. It gave him nothing, and cost him everything. Or almost. He needs to ask.