Chapter 2:
Emma Black was the last name on the mediwitch list for the tournament, and therefore the last to arrive for the opening ceremony. She had thick, straight hair that matched her namesake, and piercing blue eyes that startled all those who saw her. Gifted with a willow frame that was blessed with curves in the right places, she was indeed alluring, but still subtle enough to blend into the background with the right opportunity. However, subtle would not be the correct word to describe her entrance through the stadium passageways. Walking with a confidence that mimicked a feline on the prowl and dressed fashionably to flaunt her assets, anyone in her way was drawn into staring at her. Quidditch players that had lingered after their physical exams were asking who she was and no one had the answer. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she gave a saucy smile towards some of the boys before opening up the door to the main infirmary and closing it behind her. Outside the door, someone voiced what everyone else was silently thinking: "She's a mediwitch!?" The coaches who had watched her pass felt their hearts drop with the realization that there would be many more "injuries" this tournament if she was going to be on the mediwitch staff. Nobody present would ever suspect that the flirtatious beauty who had passed them by was the studious bookworm of the Golden trio. As far as records could tell, Hermione Granger had mysteriously disappeared from her third class cabin on a train heading north shortly before the pureblood elitist Emma Black arrived at her first class cabin on the very same train.
Once inside, Hermione wasted no time in introducing herself to her fellow mediwitches and getting her placement chart from the stack. Looking it over carefully, she noted that the schedule was for a two month timespan, but the side note below warned that based on performance certain mediwitches would be asked to stay through the final matches. A tall, bulky man lumbered by Hermione's shoulder and she felt her attention drawn away from her schedule towards him. Looking back over her shoulder at him, she gave an indifferent sneer as he gave her a hungry look over.
"You must be Miss Black. I have heard all about you," he said offering a meaty paw for her to shake.
"I'm afraid I haven't had the same pleasure. You are?" Offering her hand, he bent over to place a kiss a top of it rather than shake it.
"Edgar Nott, chief of tournament staff and distinguished member of the board of directors. I hope you find the schedule to your liking. It took me quite some time to arrange it once I heard you were coming. Not all of the mediwitches are lucky enough to find such accommodating circumstances." Indeed, Hermione had noted that the entirety of her schedule was in the surrounding area. From what she understood of the tournament, most of the games would be held here, but there were a certain number of games that would have to be held elsewhere. The mediwitches assigned those matches would be expected to travel with the teams to the new game locations. Giving him a confident smile, Hermione retracted her hand from his.
"I'm blown away by your kindness Mr. Nott. I'll make sure your efforts on my behalf are in not in vain."
"Think nothing of it, my dear. The legend of your skill precedes you. We are honored to have a mediwitch of your caliber attending the tournament. If you will please excuse me, I need to rally everyone together so we can head to the pitch for the opening ceremony. Do get changed into the mediwitch uniform quickly. They are over there," he said pointing back at neat piles of black dresses she hadn't noticed. Politely excusing herself, Hermione grabbed a dress that looked to be in her size and stepped behind a curtain to put it on. Folding her own clothes into the pouch she always carried at her waist, she slipped into the ankle length matron gown. For a garment she was sure would kill any sense of feminine appeal, Hermione was surprised to see how well it moved with her. Using magic to tighten the strings around her waist and tie them into a bow on her back, she stepped out and joined the others forming two lines at the door.
Mr. Nott called the group to attention and began handing out the badges that would give them stadium access. After handing her the last badge, Mr. Nott led them out to the pitch where Quidditch teams and their personal staffs were waiting for the ceremony to start. Hermione's eyes glossed over the crowd noting people from Kingsley's file as she took her designated seat on stage beside the officials who would ref the games, members of the board of directors, and the ministry officials in charge of maintaining order. As the ceremony was called to order, the fire was formally lit in the European Quidditch cup and placed in the stadium lobby so that all could see it. When the winners were announced in three months' time, the fire would go out and the cup would be given to that team. Officials dragged the ceremony out with speeches, and Hermione found her eyes repeatedly returning to one particular Quidditch player sitting with the Vrasta Vultures.
She had known he was going to be here, but that didn't make seeing him after all these years any easier. Viktor's dark hair was still cropped short, but not nearly as short as it was when they were together in school, and his brown eyes watched the proceedings with an attentiveness that Hermione was lacking at the moment as she readily compared him to her memories. His nose still had that slight crookedness to it giving him a youthful appearance, but it was obvious he had become a man in her absence. Even from her seat she could see how he had grown into the frame of his body with lean muscle. Part of her yearned to see her old friend and catch up on the time lost between them, but the risk was too great. He was the only one here that could blow her cover, therefore she needed to avoid him like the devil.
"Hey Viktor, check out that mediwitch. She's pretty hot."
"Sergei, you know I'm not interested. We are supposed to be paying attention to the ceremony, at least try to be attentive so Coach doesn't make us run extra drills tonight." Sergei put an arm around Viktor's shoulder and turned his head as if he was watching the tournament official speak as well, but instead continued whispering to Viktor.
"How many years are you going to stay hung up on that British girl? We all know that you stop by her house with flowers every time we go to Britain for a match."
"But he never speaks to her or leaves the flowers, just stands outside the house staring at it like a star-struck fool. If I hadn't already seen you in the shower room Viktor, I would say God did not bless you with any balls," Igor chimed in from the other side of Viktor without removing his eyes from the official at the stand. Viktor rolled his eyes at his teammates, but was cut off by Ivan speaking up from the other side of Igor.
"I would rate her 8 out of 10 and she is totally eyeing Viktor."
"She's totally a 10 out of 10! How can you ignore those legs? Respect the quality," Sergei chortled quietly.
"8 out of 10 in the mediwitch uniform, but I bet she would be a 10 out of 10 with nothing on," Igor added. Even though he was married, that didn't stop him from rating girls with the others. However he typically didn't give a girl higher than a seven out of ten, unless of course the girl happened to be his wife. Letting his eyes slide from the official to the mediwitches, it only took a moment for his eyes to catch on the blue eyes staring at him. Raven black hair fanned around her shoulders, matching the frumpy black gown that she somehow made appealing. Her fair pale skin and delicate wrists gave the impression of a sheltered flower, but the way she sat told of a worldly confidence. Holding his eyes for a few moments, her cheeks blushed a twinge of red before looking away at the official. She was indeed very pretty, but then again so were many of the fangirls that chased after him. She was no different than the others really, he reasoned silently, only Hermione was different. Only she ever saw him for Viktor, not Viktor the star seeker of the entire Quidditch league. Ignoring the others chuckling around him, he turned his attention back as the British Minister of Magic stood up to do the closing speech.
Hermione walked slowly down the road from the stadiums back to town after changing out of her uniform. While Emma would have argued that she should apparate or floo to her new home, Hermione gave herself permission to relax and walk there. It was a beautiful afternoon in the wild Scottish countryside. Rolling green hills covered with occasional bunches of wildflowers meshed with the chortling creeks that scoured the land. A glistening of sweat covered her brow as the sun kissed her with its warmth and she moved a hand to wipe it away. The sound of incoming broomsticks from behind, made her look back. Quidditch players from different teams flew overhead happily taking advantage of the free air to fly without worry of muggles nearby. Climbing over the last hill, she spotted the village below teaming with wizards and witches preparing for the tournament.
Hermione's new residence was located in an affluent ward of the village and covered in every sort of ward and charm possible to keep it undetectable. The entrance to her flat was hidden in an alley off of the busy market street and doubled as the rear entrance to the local Irish pub. The door would only open to the hallway of her apartment if they spoke the password before yanking open the door, otherwise they would walk into the pub. Opening the door to her residence, Hermione wasted no time in closing the door behind her and walking down the long narrow stone hall to the set of spiral stairs that led to her apartment. In many ways the stone stairs reminded her of going up the stairs in the astronomy tower. Stepping off the stairs, she put her key in the lock and let down the inner wards so she could enter before everything locked back up. The flat was sparsely decorated with the essentials that she needed to live there and keep her cover. Natural light flooded in the many one-way windows and gave her a wonderful view of the market street below. Pulling her shrunken suitcase out of the pouch at her waist, Hermione wasted no time in unpacking and putting everything away. After all, she was supposed to be meeting her fellow spy at The Bloody Bludger in an hours' time.