Disclaimers: I don't own the characters or anything other than the plot.
"To cap matters, Montague had still not recovered from his sojourn in the toilet. He remained confused and disorientated and his parents were to be observed one Tuesday morning striding up the front drive, looking extremely angry.
"Should we say something?" said Hermione in a worried voice, pressing her cheek against the Charms window so that she could see Mr. and Mrs. Montague marching inside. "About what happened to him? In case it helps Madam Pomfrey cure him?"
-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, pg. 678-679
So I was rereading the OotP during break, and I came across this excerpt, so I thought it would be interesting to write a fanfiction about Hermione and Montague, friendship wise so here it is! This is my first fanfiction, so I hope you all enjoy it!
*Edit: 12/15/2014 - Hey everyone! I've decided to go on a huge editing spree for this story, to fix up some SPaG. I'm not changing the plot or anything; I'm mainly going for sentence structure and grammar. Hope you enjoy!
First Year
"If you could move, I'd like to get a book."
Hermione Granger looked up with a start and quickly snapped Quidditch Through the Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp shut, slipping the book behind her back. A tall boy who had brown hair and large muscles, and was most definitely not a first year like herself, stood leaning against the shelf opposite of her looking slightly impatient. Hermione murmured a "Sorry", then shifted so the boy could have access to the shelf.
After a few painfully silent moments in which Hermione wondered if she'd been caught trying to study for the upcoming Flying lessons, he seemed to select the one he'd come for, and gestured for her to return to her spot, which Hermione gladly did.
"What's that you're reading about?" The boy had a very strong, loud voice, Hermione thought. She nervously glanced around, hoping Madam Pince wouldn't hear. Meanwhile, the boy was trying to get a good look at the book as Hermione shifted it behind her. Hermione thought his question was entirely unnecessary, because all the books surrounding her were of the wretched sport – it hardly took a troll's brain to figure exactly what book lay hidden in her hands.
"It's just a book. I thought I might skim it, just as some light reading." She tried to make it sound as if she wasn't really interested in it, but judging from his raised eyebrows and arrogant smirk, it wasn't very convincing.
"Ah."
Hermione slowly put the book in front of her and flipped back to the pages where her index finger was sandwiched between. She tried to focus on the words, but after what seemed a dreadfully long time, shut the book, and faced the boy who was still standing against the other shelf, watching her.
"Is there another book you need to get?"
He appeared to be surprised, perhaps at her affronted tone, and said, "No, this is the only one." He held up 1000 Ways to Bend Quidditch Rules.
"Then why are you still here?" demanded Hermione.
He held his hands up in mock surrender, and said in his loud voice, "Didn't recall it was a crime to talk to a pretty girl like yourself." He grinned as Hermione's cheeks turned pink.
Flustered, Hermione did the only thing she could when she felt embarrassed - she bristled. "Well, it's a crime to Madam Pince, if you're in the library."
As if on cue, Madam Pince quite suddenly appeared, brandishing her duster at Hermione and the boy. "Out!" she hissed, her face two inches from Hermione's. "Out! I will not have you disrupting the peace and quiet in here- and you, Montague! I thought you were banned! OUT!" The boy – Montague, she had called him – made a face and grabbed Hermione's hand and, clutching their books, the two ran from the library with Madam Pince following their every move until they reached the open corridor.
They stopped running to catch their breath at the end of the hallway, and when they did, Hermione wrestled her wrist from Montague's grasp. Huffing, she glared at him as she rubbed her wrist.
"What?" asked Montague, catching her glare.
"Because of you, Montague, if that's your name, I've gotten in trouble with Madam Pince. It'll be your fault if she remembers me next time when I want to do work." She crossed her arms very tightly and turned her nose up at him before starting down the hall to get away from the boy who so rudely ruined her reputation with the librarian. And she had been doing so well, too!
"I believe that's a 'we' you've missed in there," he commented, and strolled alongside her. "And say - since you know my name, how about you go on and tell me yours?"
They turned a corner as Hermione sniffed at him. "And why would you care to know my name?"
"So I can follow you, of course. A charming young lady you are, first year, I presume?"
"Yes. But I don't see why I should tell you anything else."
The boy - Montague - snorted. "Oh, come on, I just want your name and house, since I already know what year you're in. Not a big deal."
Hermione glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. He was obviously a troublemaker - only troublemakers were banned from the library - but that didn't explain why he'd been there in the first place; what could a troublemaker possibly want from the library? Of course, his book was about Quidditch, so Hermione could assume he was a Quidditch player. She pursed her lips as she remembered the title of his book. If this boy was a Quidditch player, he certainly wasn't striving to be a very honest one.
The boy, unlike her, was comfortably dressed in his robes, though his House tie was not around his neck. Despite the fact that she really knew nothing about him at all, Hermione could not see Montague as being a Ravenclaw; Ravenclaws generally weren't on Madam Pince's bad side. He couldn't be Gryffindor either, because she'd observed almost every Gryffindor attending Hogwarts this year, and his face didn't strike her as familiar. So that meant that he was either a Hufflepuff or a Slytherin, and she was willing to bet that he was a -
"Hello?" Montague waved a hand in front of her face.
"Yes?" asked Hermione, slightly irritated at being interrupted in her thoughts.
"So how about it? Your name?"
She frowned. "I don't see why you need it."
"See, I don't. I just want it." Montague suddenly stopped in his tracks, looked down at his watch, and swore. "Well, our time ends here, fair maiden. I've got a house meeting to go to." He winked at her. "But I can meet you somewhere later, if you want."
Hermione was just about to shake her head - of course she wasn't going to voluntarily mingle with a troublemaker! - when she realized that this was the very first invitation to meet up with someone that she'd received since term started. Could she really just shake off an offer to meet up with her so quickly, just because he happened to get her in trouble? What if she never received another one? Could it be that he actually wanted to be her friend?
She made a jerky movement with her head - perhaps it was a nod, perhaps it was not, but Montague grinned and said, "Perfect. Then I can actually find out your name, hm?" He spun around and began to saunter down a smaller corridor that she hadn't noticed. "Oh," he called back, chuckling, "one more thing: you really can't learn how to play Quidditch by reading a book about its history."
Hermione blushed.
First Year, November
"So you're Hermione Granger."
Hermione started, then smiled before looking up from her Potions essay - she recognized the voice even though she'd only had one conversation with him.
"And you're Graham Montague."
In truth, Hermione had worked hard for this piece of information, among others, so she was pleased to see a flicker of surprise on his handsome face – but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"Not only are you Granger, the first-year teachers are constantly raving about, but you're also friends with famous Potter and his friend the Weasel-"
"Don't call him that!" snapped Hermione, suddenly irritated. The smile that had formed at his presence slipped off her face into a scowl. True, she'd only been friends with Harry and Ron for a week or so, but Hermione didn't like the condescending tone Montague had used. It disturbingly reminded her of Draco Malfoy.
"And," Montague continued, as if she had not interrupted him, "to top it off, you're all in Gryffindor."
"Well you're in Slytherin, so that makes us even," she shot back. "Now if you would please leave, I would like to do my essay."
Hermione resumed her essay without another word. She'd been working hard since lunch, and had planned to stay inside until dinner, although the Saturday afternoon was most likely one of the last sunny days of the season. The sound of quill on parchment soothed her, yet she now found herself unable to focus, due to the fact she was very much aware of Montague's eyes on her and that, of course, he still hadn't moved.
She slammed down her quill, causing Madam Pince to glare at her over her book (speaking of which, the librarian still hadn't completely forgotten about the incident a couple of weeks before). "Do you need something from me?" she asked through gritted teeth.
"No, why?"
"Then could you please remove yourself? There's a reason why I picked the table furthest from the door."
He pretended to think about it for a moment, then replied lazily, "No, I think I will have to refuse that delightfully polite request," placing his feet on the table as he leaned back on the chair.
Hermione's jaw dropped at the immature third-year in front of her, and she scooped up her essay, which was four inches longer than assigned but didn't feel quite complete yet, and rolled it to fit in her bag. As she placed her quills and ink inside as well as a book she decided to borrow, she felt a hand grab her wrist.
"Where are you going?"
"Somewhere where I can finish my essay in peace," Hermione said, shrugging off his hand.
"But I only just got here!"
"Precisely." She pushed in her chair and turned to leave. To her surprise, and slight regret, Montague did not try to stop her as she stalked out of the library, sighting the Weasley twins causing their usual mischief out of the large windows and thinking that she would rather write her essay in their presence rather than the rude Slytherin's she'd just left.
But as soon as Hermione had reached the corner, she felt herself being lifted up and around onto someone's shoulder, and through the confusion, saw a head of dark brown hair.
Her initial shock wearing off, Hermione began to thrash violently. "What" - she grunted - "do you think" - her foot jabbed into Montague's back - "you're doing?!"
"I think you've been doing a lot of work. It's time you took a break," Montague said cheerily. It appeared that Hermione's violent movements were not affecting him in the slightest.
That didn't keep her from trying. "MONTAGUE!" screamed Hermione, pounding furiously on his back. "LET ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!"
Although she couldn't see his face – she couldn't see anything, really, considering how she was being tossed like a rag doll on this wretched Slytherin's shoulder – she could practically feel him smirk.
"See, this is why this is a good idea, Granger."
"What?!" spluttered Hermione. "In absolutely no way is this a 'good idea', so put me down right now!" She spat out a lock of frizzy hair that fell into her mouth. "Where are you taking me anyway?"
There it was again – the feeling of him smirking.
Montague said patiently, "See, I remember that book your were reading the first time we met, and I thought you might be interested in, say, a broom ride?"
"A broom – YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!" With newly arrived fervor, Hermione resumed her punching and squirming.
"Now, now, calm down Granger, don't want to attract attention, do we?" This was a remarkably late suggestion, for if the students roaming the halls had not been attracted by Hermione's screams, seeing a Gryffindor being carried by a Slytherin was odd enough.
Hermione felt Montague reach out with his free arm and heard the oak doors open to a light wind and warm sun. As Montage strode towards the Quidditch pitch, hauling a frustrated Hermione, he commented, "It's a brilliant idea, really, considering you were so interested in Quidditch when I met you." The smirk.
"It is not a brilliant idea, seeing as I can hardly get my broom to come off the ground," said Hermione rather snappishly. "And would you please let me down? Or I'll be forced to curse you later."
"Fine, I'll put you down, but don't go running away, Granger."
With obvious ease, Montague set her back on the ground, and Hermione wasted no time in putting her hands on her hips and jabbing her finger in his face. "What was that? You can't just carry perfectly innocent people out to the Quidditch Pitch - it's not normal to do that, what were you thinking, what would have happened if you'd dropped me?! And doing it in front of all those people, too, it was embarrassing, and - Oh Merlin, where's my bag, you lost my bag - NO, I AM NOT GETTING ON THAT THING!"
For Montague had some how acquired a sleek broomstick that hovered over the ground by itself, and he was trying to get her to sit on it.
"I am not getting on that, no, you haven't a clue what heights mean to me -"
"Relax, Granger, it'll be fine-"
"I'm going to plummet to my death, you really don't understand-"
"Just get on, it's going to be the best decision of your-"
"- and I don't even like Quidditch-"
Immediately she knew she'd said the wrong thing. Montague's eyes widened and suddenly he grabbed her hands and firmly placed the broom in them. "I might've let you go," he said, shaking his head, "but that would be merciless of me."
It took Hermione five more minutes of convincing to put her leg over the broom, and when she did, she winced, expecting to be thrown off to the ground.
"Now, this broom is a Nimbus, and it's one of the best out there," Montague said, although he could have been talking to himself for all Hermione was listening, "so don't you worry about a single thing."
Hermione whimpered and whispered, "Except falling twenty feet in the air."
He laughed. "I'll be right behind you, stop fretting so much, Granger. Alright, let's go!"
Without any other warning, Montague pushed off the ground, his arms gripping the front of the broom while Hermione screamed as they soared into the air. Her hands were slick with sweat and clung desperately onto the handle. "I'm going to fall off, I'm going to fall off, I'm going to fall off," murmured Hermione, who's eyes were riveted blankly ahead, not daring to look down. The light breeze seemed to sway the broom violently beneath her, only reminding her how high she must be in the air.
"You're not going to fall off," came Montague's voice calmly in her ear. "I'm holding on rather tightly, so the only way you could fall if is if I fall off."
"And that's such a pleasant thought," Hermione managed to say sarcastically, her eyes squeezed shut, "considering how clumsy you seem to be."
He scoffed and said mischievously, "Well since you don't believe me, I believe I'll have to show you."
They had been going about five miles per hour, but Montague suddenly leaned forward at an unthinkable speed and swerved – Hermione started screaming again – towards the goal posts.
"MONTAGUE, IF I DIE, I'M GOING TO DRAG YOU RIGHT DOWN WITH ME!" Hermione shrieked as he weaved quickly through and around the posts. The only response she got was a light chuckle.
Hermione's bushy hair flew onto her face, obscuring her view for a few seconds. When she'd regained the ability to see, Montague called over the wind, "We're going down now, Granger!"
Down was just as bad, if not worse, than up. In fact, it was so horrifyingly imminent that Hermione found herself unable to do anything but grip the broom until her knuckles turned an unhealthy white and squeeze her eyes shut while screaming until she wasn't sure she was even making a sound anymore.
On the other hand, Montague seemed to be having fun going down – she reckoned he didn't normally descend in a perfectly vertical line, and this was proven when he nearly crashed them onto the pitch, Hermione tumbling off the broom three feet off the ground.
The good part was that there was grass underneath, so she didn't hit the ground too hard. The bad part was that she had hit the ground at all.
"MONTAGUE!"
As Hermione sat up, her head throbbing slightly, she saw Montague sitting a few feet away with the broom, rubbing his forehead. When he saw Hermione glaring at him, he smiled.
"So what did you think, Granger?"
Hermione felt a growl coming up her throat and stood up shakily. "Let's just say, Montague, in our future meetings, you are hereby banned from taking me on Quidditch rides. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go find my bag, which you lost." She began walking slowly towards the castle, still dazed from her fall.
"So there's a next time, huh?" came Montague's voice as she left the pitch, but Hermione pretended not to hear, and left briskly for the Gryffindor Tower, where surely Harry and Ron would be looking for her.
The next morning at breakfast, when the owls came pouring in for the morning post, Hermione watched as Montague, sitting across the hall at the Slytherin table, got a note from a tawny brown school owl. The note said:
Library, after dinner.
-HG
He looked up towards the Gryffindor table, caught her eye, and winked. And Hermione, who had had doubts of sending the note in the first place, felt this was only the start of an unimaginable friendship.
This may or may not stay a one-shot, but for now it will be!
Please review because I'd like to write another story, but it would be nice if I could have some feedback on my writing! Thanks! :)