Written By: Summer Carlisle
Disclaimer: Absolutely not mine, I am only borrowing from Our Queen. Although I doubt these disclaimers make any difference, it can't hurt. I own only the new plot ideas seen here, not the characters or place names or anything else.
Setting: Seventh year for the trio, but not really canon with the last few books at all.
Rating: T
Genre: General, romance, is sporting event a genre?
Warnings: language/violence/sexual themes
Note: I am updating this which I wrote a long time ago, I hope you enjoy.
Chapter One
Hermione smiled sadly as she sat down at the Gryffindor table with her friends. This would be her last year at Hogwarts. While being back at her home away from home made her incredibly happy, she would miss this place when the year ended. She noticed a lot of her fellow seventh years, even the Slytherins, looked to be feeling the exact same way. She gazed nostalgically at the first years as they filed in through the doors for the first time.
"I am so glad I'm not eleven anymore," Lavender said, giggling, as she leaned over and placed a hand on Ron's arm. He grinned back.
"Well we do have more fun now," he murmured to her. Hermione didn't like how this was going. Hadn't he broken up with her because she annoyed him? She narrowed her eyes at the couple, not unnoticed by Harry.
"She owled him over the summer, they started talking again…I guess you missed a lot while you were on vacation with your parents," Harry explained none too quietly. Hermione glanced over to see if Ron had heard, but he was apparently too busy making googly eyes at Lav-Lav to notice when others talked about him.
"Bermuda was fantastic, thank you, and I certainly do not mind missing out on the details of his love life, I really don't care to know," she said, hoping to sound nonchalant. Harry narrowed his eyes at this.
"Okay, Hermione. I won't say anything else about it then," he said with a sigh. They quieted down as the newest students were sorted, Hermione taking it upon herself as Head Girl to ensure the overly cocky second years left the wide-eyed first years alone. After the sorting was complete, Dumbledore stood, smiling fondly at them all.
"Welcome, and welcome back, to all. I am pleased to announce that this year Hogwarts will be hosting the very first Grand Quidditch Tournament. This spectacular event will include ourselves, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang schools of magic." There was an outburst of chattering amongst the students. Harry and Ron stared, open-mouthed, at each other in excitement.
"Oh for goodness' sakes!" Hermione muttered. "It's just Quidditch!" Her friends, however, did not hear her, having become caught up in discussing the upcoming possibilities.
"Students, students!" Dumbledore re-called their attention good-naturedly. "I know that this is a thrilling advancement, but you must listen carefully to the details in order for us to participate." The hall quieted once more. "This is, indeed, the first time we will advance our Quidditch teams past the level of house competitions. This event, much like the Twiwizard Tournament of three years past, involves the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons coming to stay at Hogwarts. This includes all students and all faculty members. As our school is equipped with more space than we make use of, they will be using some of our rooms to hold their own classes within the castle. We must all strive to be welcoming and accommodating to our guests for the months they will be here with us." His eyes passed over the Slytherin table. "Until their arrival near the end of this month, we shall be working to create a single Quidditch team to represent all of Hogwarts, including students of all houses." As he spoke, Ron shushed Hermione as she explained what Quidditch was to an obviously muggleborn first year. "On Thursday, there will be a meeting out on the Quidditch pitch directly after classes for all interested in being involved with the team. See Madam Hooch for details. Now, let us eat!"
The hall burst into loud chatter as the food appeared, and Hermione sighed. She seemed to be the only person who wasn't remotely interested in the upcoming sporting event. Even all the first years were clearly looking forward to it. She rolled her eyes as Ron and Harry ignored her –and their food—in favor of excitedly talking about the tournament.
"I just hope I'm on the team," Harry said, stirring his spoon round and round in his mashed potatoes.
"Well they'd be bloody stupid not to put you on, wouldn't they?" Ron said. "I'm the one who needs to be concerned about making it."
"Of course you'll make the team, Won-Won," Lavender purred at him. His hunched shoulders seemed to relax, Hermione noticed. How was it that Lavender had that effect on him? Whenever Hermione tried to talk to Ron these days, he seemed more tense, not less. Maybe if I talk in sugary-sweet baby-talk just like she does, we will get along again! Hermione thought, taking a deep breath and trying to block out Lavender's saccharine voice.
"Can you imagine what it would be like if Hogwarts won this thing?" Seamus asked from across the table. "We would be making history!"
In order to prove how completely and totally uninterested she was in Ron's romantic life, Hermione had been looking forward to telling him and Harry all about her vacation. However, she was never given the chance to do this. Her two best friends refused to hear anything not relevant to Quidditch. The only talk she heard that had nothing to do with the wretched sport was when Parvati cornered her in the girls' lavatory three nights into term.
"So, I'm sure you noticed Lav and Ron are back together by now," she said, combing her already flawless black hair as she looked at Hermione's reflection in the mirror.
"I guess so, I haven't really been paying all that much attention to them," Hermione said, edging herself back toward the door.
"I thought you fancied him," she said, spinning around to face Hermione, her eyes narrowed and the comb pointing accusingly at Hermione's chest.
"Ron has only ever been a friend to me," she said, turning the doorknob. "I've a Head's meeting to get to, got to go." She slipped past the other girl and back out into the corridor, hurrying into the nearest open door as to avoid being trapped again. It most certainly wasn't that Ron and Lavender bothered her, it was just how blatantly disgusting they always were together. She simply didn't want to be reminded of how frequently she would be seeing both their tongues from now on by Parvati. Hovering just behind the barely open door, she heard the other girl calling her name down the corridor. Hermione sighed and sat down on the closest desk.
"Hiding out, Granger?"
She spun around, startled, to face the drawling voice from behind her. Malfoy. He'd been lurking in the darkest back corner of the room without her noticing. He smirked and began walking up to her.
"Do you have nothing better to do than prowl about in old classrooms, Malfoy?" she said, heading for the door.
"Best not leave, your precious weasel might be snogging that Brown girl out there. You wouldn't want to get your little mudblood feelings hurt, would you?" he said. Hermione stopped in her tracks.
"I'm sure Ron has the decency not to do any such things in the middle of a corridor. And besides, even if that was a possibility, I really don't care about his recreational activities," she said, sparing him an eye roll over her shoulder before turning to leave again.
"Well if you're so unbothered by it, why have you been avoiding him and watching her ever since term started?"
"What would you know about that?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.
"You're not the only one who knows things, Granger. The things I know are just things that matter, unlike the meaningless trivia you memorize," he said, stepping out of the shadows.
"Since when do you consider my personal affairs to be meaningful?" she snapped.
"They don't really, but I suspected that you would be vexed when you found out that I knew about it. I do enjoy irritating lesser people." He chuckled mirthlessly.
Hermione was a split second from pulling out her wand when she decided better of it. She would be giving him what he wanted if she allowed him to see how much he had bothered her. Instead, she sneered at him and left.
People poured into the Quidditch pitch the next day, eager to be included in the tournament. Draco stood, bored, learning on the wall at the entrance. He smirked at the people going past him. Most of these fools had absolutely no chance of making it. The Boy-Who-Needed-To-Bloody-Die walked by with his blood-traitor sidekick. Since they were still several feet away, he did not wish to bother exerting any effort to go over and harass them. He settled instead with his usual glare which was returned vehemently by both the Gryffindors.
Draco entered the pitch at the very back of the crowd, his eyes drawn to the platform in the middle of the field. Dumbledore, Hooch and all the Heads of House stood there, waiting for the students to settle. He wished they would just shut up already so they could get to the Quidditch. As silence fell over the crowd, Dumbledore began speaking.
"Due to the nature of this tournament, there will be twice the number of players in the Hogwarts Quidditch team so that we may have backups, two keepers, four beaters, six chasers and two seekers. Positions are available to all students of any age or house. We will be holding tryouts today for all positions. The other professors you see here and I will be the judges. We shall take note of your performances and choices for the team will be announced by the beginning of next week. Now, students, please line up as Madam Hooch directs you." Hooch then took over and instructed everyone into lines, organized by desired position on the team. Draco ended up standing directly between Potter and two giggling first year girls.
"I don't see why some people even bothered showing up," he commented to Blaise Zabini who was in the keeper line next to theirs, intentionally making his sideways glance at Potter noticeable. Blaise laughed then smiled winningly at the first years, causing them to nearly fall over on top of each other in a giggle fit. That was Blaise; he was all about the ladies, all the time. "I think you're aiming a little too young there, mate."
"Just preparing for the future," he said, running a hand over his short hair. "Six years' difference won't matter when we're out of school." Draco rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the tryouts.
Madam Hooch announced how things would proceed and passed out standard broomsticks. Draco heard Crabbe and Goyle asking from the beaters line why they weren't allowed their own brooms. Hooch sighed exasperatedly.
"If you two had been listening when I explained the guidelines you would know already. It is to make the tryouts completely fair!"
How he could have ever actually associated himself with those two dimwits was vastly beyond Draco now. Nowadays, he spent most of his social time with Blaise, Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott. He was one of the most, no, he was the most popular person in school, but he was very selective about who he associated with. If he wasn't careful, he could end up with riffraff friends like Potter had, and he just couldn't have that.
They proceeded with the tryouts. Hooch had them flying around in all sorts of ridiculous ways for over an hour while she and the others observed without comment. Then the Quidditch balls were brought out and they were directed as to how to use those for the tryouts. Draco rolled his eyes as they made him go through the motions for all the positions, not just seeker. He had no reason to try to showcase his keeper skills, though, for a seeker, he must say he was quite talented at it.
In the middle of uselessly demonstrating his competence as a beater, he hit the bludger straight into a nervous-looking group of second years. They scattered so quickly he nearly fell off his substandard broom for laughing.
"Taking on little kids, now, are we Malfoy? Older ones too tough for you?" He resisted the urge to heave his bat straight at Potter's head, knowing he would be immediately dismissed for it. Crabbe had already been kicked off the pitch for throwing his own bat at a third year Hufflepuff.
"At least I don't spend all my time hiding under a stupid title, Potter," he said, swooping by Potter close enough to send the scar-faced boy's broomstick wavering. "'The Chosen One,' my arse." He flew off to the other side of the pitch to avoid the bat-hurling temptations.
When they finally reached the seeker portion of the seeker tryouts, the first year girls Blaise had so fancied had already left. Draco vaguely recalled them flying into each other and toppling down in fits of giggles when they were hardly off the ground nearly an hour earlier. The seven people left trying out for seeker gathered around Hooch.
"I am going to release the snitch, and you lot are simply going to find it." And, without further ado, she let the little golden ball fly from her hand. After a count of three, she blew her whistle for them to take off after it.
The seeker candidates flew around the pitch higher than the rest. They struggled to see through the chaos of the dozens of other students flying around, looking for the telltale glint in the sunlight they were all hoping for. It was nearly a quarter of an hour before anyone caught sight of it.
Much to Draco's displeasure, it was some spotty fourth year Ravenclaw girl that caught sight of the snitch first. Every other would-be seeker followed her lead, heading into a steep dive straight through the practicing chasers. The girl stopped suddenly, everyone else speeding past until they realized she was no longer ahead of them. Madam Hooch flew up to her.
"I lost sight of it," the girl explained glumly, brushing dull blonde hair out of her face. Draco smirked. Good. For a moment, he feared she had stopped because she'd succeeded. With a renewed determination to be the next to see the snitch, he took to the skies once more. After many more torturously long minutes, he saw it, that unmistakable shimmer of gold amongst the students beneath him.
Draco shot forward, scattering yet another group of second years without noticing. He knew the others would be behind him in seconds, but he remained focused. His eyes expertly followed the snitch as he weaved gracefully around countless others. The snitch was so close, maybe a meter away. His arm was extended, his fingers grasping for the victory he'd been waiting for. Feeling his fingertips brush the cold metal, he lunged for it. A split second later, he pulled up, his hand empty. A flash of red went by him and he heard a cheer from the students who had gathered in the stands to watch. Potter had caught the snitch.