WAITING TO EXPLODE.
A/N: Thought it may be fun to write a little Dramione fic, but i'm not sure whether it's worth continuing... So any thoughts would be much appreciated :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Harry Potter.
Chapter 1 – Time is up.
Hermione Granger ran as fast as her size five feet would carry her across the grounds of Hogwarts. Rain was beginning to fall and she was deeply worried someone would spot her. She flew past Hagrid's Hut and rushed across the grass towards the looming Quidditch stadium ahead. The rain was falling fast now and she faltered at the opening that lead into the stands. Did she really want to do this?
A bell trilled in the distance, signalling the beginning of lunch, Hermione knew that right now Harry and Ron would be making their way down from Divination to the Great Hall. Which meant she had twenty-five minutes until they would come looking for her. The rain was becoming so heavy she could barely see the turrets of the school; she decided that she may as well wait in the stands until the rain dies down.
The sound of the rain bouncing off the roof of the stadium's walls calmed her instantly; of course she would not get caught, who else would be sneaking in the stands watching the Quidditch practise?
Swiftly, she whipped out her wand and siphoned down her robes, as she walked towards the wooden steps. A sign pointing up to her left stated,
COMMENTATOR'S BOX.
She hurried up the stairs, clutching her wand tightly in case of any unwanted attention. It was not long until the sound of the rain became louder, an opening to her right would have taken her straight into the commentator's box but she carried on until the stairs ran out and she was in a covered space. It was somewhere no-one knew about, the place she had come in her first year to stop Professor Snape from cursing Harry off his broom. Her lips tightened slightly, how could she have been so foolish to suspect Snape and not realise that Voldemort had been inches away from her. Hermione shuddered before dropping down her sopping satchel and walking towards the slits in the walls. They were of course the seats of the teachers and guests, but today like many times before they were empty and Hermione had a full view of the Quidditch pitch and the team who were playing there.
Even though the rain was falling relentlessly, Hermione could see the giant golden hoops either end of the pitch; the stands were practically empty, asides from several friends of the team who had come to watch the practise. But one thing she could see as clear as daylight was the green sliver of the Slytherin's quidditch robes. Her breath caught abruptly when she saw him. His blonde hair sopping wet, his wicked grey eyes scanning the pitch, his green robes soaked and clinging to his chest. Suddenly, he bent low over his broom, with a small smirk growing on his face as he whizzed out of sight. Hermione watched in awe as he swooped agilely around the stands. She gasped loudly as he dropped abruptly out of her sight, only then to return in the same position holding the golden snitch. His pointed face was glinting with pride and she could not help but smile slightly at his triumph.
It was stupid, she thought in aggravation, but this was completely different to the crush she previously had on Lockhart in her second year. Hermione would feel her stomach twist whenever she saw him in the corridors, she could not stop herself from smiling whenever he grinned mischievously; yet she was so angry at him for making her feel like this. She watched as he dodged a bludger before gliding easily to the ground and high-fiving the team's captain.
All of a sudden there was a shuffle of feet behind her, Hermione felt as if a bucket of ice-cold water had just been thrown over her. Instinctively, she froze, her fingers digging nervously against the wood. A small voice suddenly cut through the silence,
'Hermione?'