Title: The Quidditch Player and Other Stories
Author: fairytalemanipulator
Summary: Series of unrelated R/Hr oneshots. Hermione Granger loathed Quiddich. But then, what was it about the Quiddich players? Review!
A/N: Thanks to jademariepoultney for reminding me to post this story! This follows in the vein of Pink Peppermint, except it's Ron/Hermione!
EDIT- thanks so much to Gag Hafrunt who noticed what I STUPIDLY had not! I cannot believed I misspelled Quidditch, that has to be the worst error in this story haha, please ignore my imbecilic moment.
Chapter 1- The Quidditch Player
Hermione Granger loathed Quidditch. But then, what was it about the Quidditch players?
Oh yes, Miss Granger hated flying, no question about it. There was something about the feeling of sturdy, solid ground under her feet that she would really rather not give up. The no-nonsense girl preferred competition in logic and reason as opposed to dastardly heights and mind-bending strategy. Quidditch required reflexes that she had from defense training, and Hermione was positive she would make a mighty good player if she could only bring herself to mount those "sticks of doom", as she bitterly called them. The few times she had been on a broom, either forcedly or required by circumstance, had been harrowing moments of utter dread. Hermione associated broomsticks with casualty and devastation, mostly because she really hadn't learned how to keep the sodding thing from switching directions on her.
And it irked her quite a bit that she, Hermione Granger, hadn't mastered a thing that was so simple compared to the centuries-old charms she could cast.
Brightest witch of my age, my foot, she would scoff to herself derisively, watching with jealousy and alarm as her friends would whoop and bellow with excitement while performing dangerous stunts at the Quidditch matches.
But there was something about Quidditch she seemed to like.
Mysteriously enough for sensible Hermione, it was the players.
Her first crush had been Oliver Wood. She was a first year and he was older and "oh so suave!" as Lavender had gushed, naturally using a "grown-up" word she had learned from her older cousin.
Oliver had always been nice to her and he had helped her more than once with her Potions homework when she was struggling with Snape's belligerent instructions. He frequented the library as much as she had her first year (and onwards), and never hesitated to give the little brunette a warm smile. She caught herself often admiring his regal stance and concentrated work ethic, as only Hermione Granger would. Hermione had fancied him for no more than a few months, however, because he was a genuinely nice bloke but she was too young and he was too…nice, perhaps? It just sort of wore off after a while, although she often felt little flickers of excitement when the handsome boy would shoot a grin in her direction. Childhood infatuations rarely lasted, though she supposed Ginny Weasley was one true exception, with her being Ginny Potter now.
Her second rather offbeat fascination was in one Viktor Krum, or as a jealous Ron scathingly referred to him as, "Vickie". That was one legitimate fancy that Hermione Granger had never seen coming; after all, he was famous and popular and she was…well, not.
Simple and plain Hermione had never fallen for someone before Krum, or so she preferred to think. During her fourth year she would wonder if Krum was simply a diversion, if she was just using him because a certain Weasley boy didn't see her as a girl…then she would banish her disloyal thoughts and turn back to Viktor, smiling unseeingly as he prattled on about this or that.
After all, Ron was her best friend! She would shake her head at the thought of anything more than that, pretending it wasn't possible, oblivious til the last minute.
She and Krum did have a rather wonderful time, though, in those short months before the tragedy befalling the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione had blossomed and become more whole under his unwavering attention, and for the first time she felt noticed. Overlooked by one and all, even by her best friends, as the bookworm with no passions besides her studies, she supposed it was no surprise that they didn't think of her as a girl, really. So for the first time, with Viktor, she felt like one.
They had fallen out eventually, the distance becoming too much and their mutual acknowledgment of a slowly fading attraction leading to a bright friendship. Hermione regretted nothing about their short courtship, and was pleasantly surprised when Krum went on to wed a Holyhead Harpy and settle in England himself. They had remained in communication over the years, and ran into each other frequently at the Ministry and Diagon Alley.
However, starting early in her third year there was always someone else on the fringes of her consciousness—even while she was with Krum, faithful as she was to him. However much she tried to banish those treacherous thoughts, she unconsciously sensed something missing. Hermione's sleeping mind recognized what her waking self did not, and she would frequently have dreams involving flying through the air on a shaky old broomstick, clutching the waist of a redheaded someone who was so familiar with that booming laugh…what was it with the Quidditch players?
She would awaken from those dreams in a cold sweat. Shaken and startled from the feeling of her feet of the ground, Hermione was oddly comforted by the imaginary presence of a boy she felt strangely safe around.
Who was he?
Yes, Miss Granger could be a bit thick sometimes, it was true. Especially with matters of the heart.
Not until it was almost too late, not until Lavender and wars, death threats and Death Eaters did she notice what she'd been denying for far too long.
Hermione Granger was a sap for the Quidditch players, especially a certain ginger with a penchant for mincemeat pie.
Her third and final love interest was none other than her quarrelsome best friend, the childish boy with wide eyes she watched grow into a man before her very eyes, someone who had for many years denied his own growing attraction to the once bushy-haired girl. She would bemusedly recall, at certain times, his defense of her against the one and only Draco Malfoy—a very aggressive protection, she would remember. As they grew older, he would be quick to draw his wand in duel when a sneering Malfoy would goad Hermione with the Mudblood and beaver taunts. Unbeknownst to Hermione, her copper-haired companion had watched her closely and carefully in their final dangerous years, warding her against harm as much as he could, like a guardian. He had fought alongside her on the battlefields created by evil himself with barely an eye on his own fight, straining for a glimpse of her curly brown hair.
He was just as stubborn and slow with admitting his true sentiments as she was. Fact of the matter was that Ron Weasley loved Hermione Granger.
Well of course, she loved him too.
Ron Weasley also loved Quidditch. Hermione Granger did not.
But Hermione Weasley learned to feel affection for the sport, because she realized that the dangerous and weightless sensation she felt on a broomstick was the same restless stirring she experienced in the pit of her stomach every time Ron held her, kissed her, loved her. In those peculiar nighttime visions, Hermione realized that she flew with him. Then she sensed no fear, only exaltation as she realized that she could do anything with him.
And that feeling, Hermione could certainly never loathe.
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Review please! I hope this is a good start to a long series!
