My 3rd HP story, also involving Ron and Hermione. It's a sort of sequel from a previous story, but you don't need to read it to make sense of it. I hope you enjoy it so far and happy reading to you.

Dedications: To my awesome Beta Reader Kage (you rock my world!) and even though he won't read this, to my good friend 'Nukey'. You have showed me that despite it all you have to hang on to a little faith.

Disclaimer: If I really owned this it would have been made into a subplot for an alternate Harry Potter book a long time ago….

Name of the Game

Chapter 1: Wrong Impressions

"Daily Prophet Best Selling Author"

It was one of the many titles and taglines she carried with her: Hermione Granger, or as she was known to the literary community, H. R. Granger. She was tired of conventions and readings; she wanted time for herself, time for her ideas, not for the 24/7 stress-train she was enduring.  

Of all the things she ever envisioned herself as, being an author was not even in the corner of her mind. But things change in time, including perception, and here she was, signing her millionth copy of her latest book, "Tales of Shadows." It was a fantasy novel to her fans but to her it was almost a recount of her young adulthood… where unlikely heroes saved the day from evil, dark sorcerers.

But of course, that was in the past, right where she wanted it to stay. For good. Nothing ever came out of her years at Hogwarts except for her education, or a least that was what she told herself. Hermione never allowed anymore than those tiny memories of her former school to come back to her, all her other recollections of that period had been buried… even the special ones.  She lived in the 'states' now, far and away from all she left behind.

"Hermione, you've got about two minutes to wrap things up." It was her agent Anita, the same one who dragged her into these things but somehow always managed to rescue her from them as well.

She looked up at the clock, feeling more than a little peeved, "I've already been here for three more hours than I was supposed to!" It wasn't that she didn't appreciate all her fans but this was just borderline ridiculous.  Processes like this one always made her exhausted.

"I said two more minutes!"

She wasn't buying it. "You've been coming back every half hour or so to tell the same thing. Nita, it's one o' clock in the morning, I want to get some sleep and I could always just come back tomorrow."

Anita shot a nervous look at the ceiling. "Well, actually you've got a meeting with your publisher tomorrow to talk about your recent ideas."

Hermione would have been ecstatic if half of her neurons would have been awake. "Really," she evilly teased and smiled, "and why wasn't I informed of this?"

                                        *         *         *

She'd been waiting for this meeting for weeks now but somehow she could not help but feel a tight pull in her stomach. American publishers were so much harder to deal with sometimes and hers was truly a shining case. There would always be some sort of setbacks or restrictions they would push on her. Anita lead her into the spacious office of Keith Hamilton, or as she would like to call him, the story-killer.

"Granger!" He was visible behind a large wooden desk. "Glad to see ya, so how did your signing go?" His thick southern accent punctuating every word he went on "Not too much trouble now, was it?"

She smiled half-heartedly. "It went perfectly well Mr. Hamilton." As well as leaving at 3:45 in the morning could be. "However, I am wondering why you requested such an urgent meeting." And she meant it too, it wasn't everyday that the boss requested a face to face encounter.

"Well little lady." Oh how she hated being addressed like that. "You'll be happy to know that Anita here has informed me about your plans to write a story involving a Quidditch player." He saw her grim expression and laughed. "Well don't worry there. We think it's an excellent idea to make modern heroes into real heroes! As you might now, I'm a fan of the sport myself."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Really, Mr. Hamilton, as you know I've been wanting to follow up on such an idea."

Anita beamed at her, "I've also told him that you've been thinking about taking a small break to do so." Hermione looked puzzled. "Anyways, we thought about sending you to do some research on one of those moderate teams."

Needless to say, she was more than a little amused. "Research? On what, a bunch of barbarians swinging balls back and forth?" She tried not to sound so stuck up but it just came out in such way. She already knew enough about the activity after years of having her two school friends on the house team.

Hamilton, who had been observing her cautiously just doubled over in laughter. "I take it you are not a big fan?" Precisely that and she had her own reasons for it as well. "As I see then, there is nothing to discuss. I want you to get in the game and that's why you're going to good 'ole U.K."

"Great Britain?"  Of all places to go back to….

"One of my favourite teams too, and you know, a little publicity couldn't hurt. I've already talked to the team manager and everything is set-up." He handed her a folder "I thought about making you stay here, check up on of our own but Anita insisted you go; and besides the people here all about the quodpot"

She was extremely taken back all of a sudden. "All right," she shuttered, this was something she could handle, and she needed a vacation. "And what team would that be?" Anything as long as it wasn't….

"The Chudley Cannons!"

*          *          *

"Hey Weasley! Wake up chum." Ron popped one of his eyes open, just fast enough to feel the impact of icy cold water being dumped on him. "That'll get you!" Ron's entire upper body shot up in shrill shock.

"Bloody idiot! What was that for?" Chilled drops of the water fell through his thick short bangs and into his face. "I heard you the first time." His intruder only grinned further. "And I suppose you expected me to go up at 'em with a mighty good heart attack."

"You big baby, come on the coach wants to see you." He finished by throwing a towel at his face. "He wants you there A.S.A.P."

Ron took a glance at his wrist. "Damn, it's already past noon. The coach is going to have my head."

*          *          *

"Weasley, you slacker. I'm going to have your head!" Surprise, surprise.

"Coach Frost, really I can explain…." And as soon as he could make up an excuse he would get back to him.

"Save it, boy! Mickey's tired of fetching you each day and quite frankly, I'm tired of practicing with only six players in my team every morning." His brow was gleaming with sweat and Ron could have sworn he was beginning to develop an angry tick. "You owe your mates a lot, but luck is in your way and I got just the chore for you to make up for it."

Just as long as it didn't involve cleaning the locker rooms with his robe and toothbrush again…. "Sir, it doesn't have anything to do with my robes and brush, does it?"

Coach Frost took small moment to relive the memory and smile. "That was a good one, wasn't it?" He chuckled at the frustrated redhead. "But much to my dismay it's much simpler than that. I suggest you take a seat."

He obliged, looking at his coach up and down. "And what have the boys planned for me this time?"

"We had nothing to do with it, the manager needs a favour," he continued when he saw the lad's confused expression, "some fancy writer wants to do some research on Quidditch players and naturally he picked the best team to do that! As I was saying, this guy needs someone to lead him around."

"And what does all of this have to do with me?" He saw the coach's lips twist into an evil grin. "No way, you've got to be kidding me. I'm not a tour guide, and I'm not going to be either!"

The couch, of course, just kept grinning. "Good to see you so cooperative, old chum. I'll tell the guys we got the man for the job."

*          *          *

"So let me get this straight: you have to play babysitter to some dumb old writer for five weeks?"

"Weasley, I can see you already, with an apron and all."

Ron tried hard to ignore his mates' snickers and dumb comments. "I'll just dump the bloke somewhere."

Mickey and Damian still kept laughing. "Weasley the nanny!" They were interrupted by a knock on the door, they got up to leave. "Good luck pal, you'll need it." His "attackers" left him and went out the door, allowing the mysterious knocker to come in.

"Wow, you look like hell Ron."

"Thanks for the compliment, Harry." His eyes followed him until he sat in the bed in front of him. "What are you doing here anyway? Did Auror duty finish early today?" he mocked in a serious sort of manner.

Harry though, was one step ahead of him. "Just wanted to be here for your first day as a nanny," he dodged the pillow that was thrown at his face. "Hey, can't a fellow show some support?"

Ron twitched his eyebrow. "Surely they can, but you're not one of those fellows. Really, what brings you here besides the overwhelming desire to see me humiliated?"

"To tell you the truth, I got an owl from Hermione today." The name alone was enough to bring goose-bumps to his skin. 

"I don't want to hear it, Harry. Five years and not a single holler from her! Trust me, if it's something she'd want me to know, she'd have to tell me herself."

"Can't you just let bygones be bygones? Really Ron, after all this time…."  But Harry knew it was futile to argue with his best friend, especially after what happened so long. "Fine Ron, but tell me this: do you even know the writer's name?"

"Frost said it was some American writer named something Rainger or whatever…. Who bloody cares?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I see, well then good luck Ron, I'm sure you'll have a blast."

*          *          *

"Hermione, if you keep pacing like that you'll put a hole on the floor," Anita pleaded helplessly.

She couldn't help herself. The Chudley Cannons out of all the teams in the U.K. Hermione wasn't sure she could handle herself anymore; that was his favourite team, everything about them invoked some memory or another about their past, and worst of all she'd have to stand it for five weeks.

"I'm sorry, Nita. I'm just a bit edgy that's all." She hadn't heard of Ron in five long years and now she'd have five wonderful weeks to do so. She sighed and muttered to herself, "I don't even know where you are and you still drive me crazy." It was maddening to her.  

"Hermione, I think there's someone at the door."

Time to face the music. "Fabulous, five weeks with some Neanderthal showing off his monkey skills." And worst of all with her thoughts running about Ron. "What could possibly be worse?" 

At that moment the door swung open.

***************

TBC…..

And that ends the first chapter. Not much to say for now except there's a lot more to come. And, I just want to sincerely thank you all for reading this. And of course, a little review wouldn't hurt either.  *Severe hinting

See you in Chap 2

TK's Angel