I don't own Harry Potter.
The match was brutal, even she could tell that. The rain soaked everything it touched, chilling her to the bone and making her fingers fumble when she reached down to pick up her fallen program. The benches were slick, slick enough that twice in this first half-hour alone she had slid off of the benches and onto the wet wood that made up the bottom of the spectators stands.
Visibility was horrible. All she could see of the players where indistinct blurs of red and green as they flew around the pitch. Slytherin was playing dirty, and Gryffindor was responding in kind, adding to the danger of the game. She couldn't imagine how everyone could do this.
A bolt of lightning lit up the pitch. Hermione had half a mind to call for the game to stop, but she knew it was no use. No one would have listened to her anyways. Once again, she internally cursed wizards' lack of self-preservation instinct.
She knew she probably should be used to this type of game. All of the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin games seemed to be played in horrible conditions. She wasn't though, even after making Harry's glasses waterproof and wishing all the team luck, and retreating to her spot in the stands, away from Ron, because he still hadn't gotten it into his head that his pathetic rat had not been eaten by her cat.
The girl next to her screamed. Hermione whipped her head around just in time to see a blur of red fall off a broom and plummet to the ground below. Someone must have slowed the fall, but Hermione was still screaming her head off.
Lee Jordan's voice came out over the field. "And Fred Weasley has fallen off his broom." Lee's voice was unmistakably concerned for his friend. A few of the Hospital Wing volunteers had run out onto the field, and were checking Fred over. After a few second of flurried checking, they raised their wands, and Fred was levitated off the field.
The Gryffindor players had frozen in midair, but not long enough for Slytherin to score. Harry, or at least the person she presumed was Harry, had begun to circle high above the rest of the players once more. Hermione kept her eyes on the circling figure in the sky, punctured only by concerned glances to the medical tent set up at the edge of the field. With a glance over to where she knew Ron was sitting, she was surprised to see he was still there with Fred injured. She supposed he wanted to keep an eye on George and Harry, to make sure they didn't get hurt as well.
The figure whom she had been watching plunged into a steep dive, a green blur who she presumed was Malfoy following closely behind him. As soon as the word caught exited Lee's mouth, Hermione was rocketing down the pitch. As she passed the unusually somber for having won team, she felt them follow behind her as she rushed to the tent.
Fred was unconscious. The entire team and Hermione crowded around around his bed. Hermione was the one who finally asked the question. "Is he going to be alright?" Her voice was concerned, and she wasn't even sure why. It wasn't like she and Fred were close or anything.
Madam Pomfrey looked down at the anxious team, and Hermione, and she smiled down at the girl. "He will be fine. In fact, he should wake up any minute now." Hermione was slightly surprised that she wasn't going into Mother Hen mode over one of her patients, but she didn't have time to worry about that right now.
There was a rustling of fabric, and the sound of the dying thunder entered the tent for just a moment. Lee Jordan had filed in, with Ron and Ginny following him. Lee and Ginny looked slightly startled at her presence, but didn't dwell on it. Ron didn't appear to notice. "Madam Pomfrey says he should be fine." Alicia told the worried trio.
Hermione could swear that she heard one collective sigh of relief. Unfortunately for her, without the distraction of Fred's well being on his mind, Ron noticed her spot in the now slightly damp tent. Hermione thought for a wild moment that he might apologize, but the notion vanished as soon as he opened his mouth.
"What're you doing here?" He asked. His voice, was sharp, and it stung.
Hermione looked down at Fred's form, still laying on the cot of the makeshift tent. Now that she knew he was going to be okay, there was really no reason for her to stay. She raised her eyes to meet Ron's. "I was just leaving, anyways," Hermione said, not letting the fact that Ron had gotten to her register in her tone.
"No," A voice said and Hermione knew it was Fred's. "Stay."
Hermione looked down to Fred's bed, where his eyes were open and he was just making move to sit up, and she smiled.