"What the bloody hell does he think he's doing? He's making sure that he always flies in front of the bludger-"
"Ron, the bludger's following him," Hermione said exasperatedly. Ron sat and glowered at the sky, offering no response to this comment. It was no fun to be contradicted by someone who was always right.
"Oh! It almost hit Harry. This is completely unsafe; they should call off the game!" she exclaimed, peering through her fingers.
"You can't just 'call off' a quidditch game."
"I know; it only ends when the snitch is caught. One game lasted for three months."
"Since when did you know so much about quidditch?"
"I read, Ron."
They lapsed back into silence. The whistle cut through Lee Jordan's commentary, and a mass of red and gold congregated in mid-air. Fred and George shot off to one side, no longer protecting Harry from the rogue bludger. It streaked off towards him, stalking him across the pitch. He was hanging upside-down from his broom now, like some sort of bizarre acrobat.
Hermione was muttering rapidly under her breath about every safety spell she had ever learned. "You know," she spoke up suddenly, "I don't see why he endangers his life just to catch a tiny, winged ball." Ron just shook his head. Hermione could be hopeless sometimes.
A/N: sorry for the abuse of italics, but besides for that I actually like the way this worked out. This may become a drabble collection (if you REVIEW and tell me if it would work :) written for page number challenge (chamber of secrets, page 168) and for if you dare challenge (prompt 949. Silence) thanks for reading
cookies and luv to anyone who reviews,
lame lame and lamer