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Now let the cartoon begin...wait, sorry watched a bit to much pee-wee's playhouse last night.
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The Quidditch supplies shop hadn't been as horrible as Hermione had originally expected but she still found herself looking at her watch - something that had just been pushed through the Muggle Integration Department and wasn't out on the markets yet - every few minutes to check the progress of the hands. Oliver had explained almost everything in the shop and had also bought her a few Puddlemere sweaters for the upcoming game, giving her stats on all of the players (on both teams) as they walked through the crowded aisles. They ran into the Seeker for Puddlemere, Erhen Enturs, and he joined the duo as they continued the 'lesson'. Personally, Hermione found it to be more of an opportunity for Oliver to brag than a learning experience – about anything other than Oliver and his teammates, that was. She was a little upset with him; he could have simply sent her the information by owl rather than having her rush through the end of a rather busy workday to meet him on time.
It had been rather exciting for the first hour, experiencing something new and learning her fair share of Quidditch 'lingo', but after six o'clock it seemed her attention span had thinned, something that hadn't happened since primary school, when she had been bored during her classes, having completed excess homework - her parents had had to begin home-schooling her. Oliver seemed not to comprehend her waning interest and continued to talk and quiz her until the clock at the back of the shop chimed seven. He'd been surprised at the sound and apologized for not setting aside enough time to properly educate her on the basics of the game. She'd shuddered, blaming the cool breeze just blowing in from the door, and assured him that she had enough information to allow her to enjoy the game properly on Thursday, which had him puffing out his chest in some odd male sense of pride. After she reassured him that she would be attending the game he let her go with a 'goodbye' and she was free to shop as she wished in the crowded Diagon Alley. Wednesday had gone uneventfully and now she sat at her small kitchen table, having requested a day off for personal reasons, waiting for Adrian to arrive. She secretly hoped he wouldn't, giving her a plausible excuse not to go, but her hopes were ruined when she heard the Floo flare up, followed by a hasty cleaning charm.
"Hermione?" Adrian called from the living room.
"In here, Pucey."
She conjured another mug and poured him a strong cup of coffee before returning to her tea and the Daily Prophet.
"Hello, love," he said with an easy smile as he took the seat across from her and gave her a once over, leaning to the side to check under the table. "That's what you're wearing to a Puddlemere game?" he asked with obvious disapproval.
"What's wrong with this?" she asked, not bothering to look at her outfit – she knew very well what she had put on not three hours ago - and taking a sip of her tea before turning a page.
"You're supporting Puddlemere… and wearing Falmouth Falcons colors?"
Though Hermione's eyes stayed on the paper, she was searching her mind to try to fit the Falmouth Falcons into a memory. It sounded familiar, and not because of her forced lesson yesterday.
"They're playing the Falcons today, witch," the sandy-haired man exclaimed, looking put-out by her lack of awareness regarding the game details.
"It's supposed to be overcast today; the grey will look navy," she said with a shrug, although she knew that that would only rile him up.
"Honestly, woman. Who on earth would send you tickets to a sport you obviously have no idea about? That's like teaching NEWT-level Potions to a newborn," he scoffed before standing up and walking out of the room and towards her bedroom.
"Adrian Pucey, you stay out of my room. I've only just found all of my Gryffindor shirts from the last time you were in there," she demanded, throwing the paper down and rushing after him. The last time he'd invaded her room he'd transfigured most of her school House clothing into bedroom items and hidden the real objects, leaving her to go through everything in her room until every shirt, scarf and piece of jewelry was found.
"You have a bag of Puddlemere merchandise by your bathroom door but you ignored it and wore that!" the ex-Slytherin scolded her as he walked out of her room with the bag from Quality Quidditch Supplies in his hand, and picked out a turtleneck sweater. "We have half an hour before we leave - I thought you'd be stubborn so I came early. If you're not out of that room in three minutes I'm coming in, decent or not," he explained warningly before shoving her into her room and closing the door, holding the doorknob on the off-chance that she tried to ignore his order and walk out of the room without making the change.
Hermione stared at the door of her bedroom and scowled down at the sweater in her hands. She had had no intention of wearing a navy sweater with two golden bulrushes crossing on the front and back but it seemed that she now had no choice. She peeled off the comfortable grey sweater and exchanged it for the stiff Puddlemere turtleneck before opening the door and resisting the urge to kick Adrian in the shin as she passed him. He kept quiet until it was time to leave for the game and then he escorted her to the Floo, telling her to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and then wait for him before going to the public Apparation point. They Apparated together to the Apparation post just outside the stadium and made their way up to the reserved box.
"This is what we had to get here two hours early for?" she asked, irritation evident in her voice as she looked out onto the Quidditch Pitch and watched the teams warming up.
"You can't truly appreciate the game until you've seen the work that goes into each match," he explained simply before turning his attention back to the field and watching with rapt attention as the players tossed a ball back and forth between one another while they flew in the air.
"Honestly."
She pursed her lips and looked around the box before taking a seat next to Adrian. She watched one of the players drop the ball and shoot down to catch it before it hit the ground, and found herself beginning to hyperventilate.
"That should be outlawed. What if he had lost control of the broom?"
"Then we wouldn't have our starting Chaser in the roster for a few days."
She gaped at his matter-of-fact tone and continued to watch the practice, in silence, until a shadow dropped over her.
"I see you've decided to wear navy," a familiar voice said from above, causing Hermione to sigh and shield her eyes as she looked up.
"I don't want to talk about it," she said tightly before sending an irritated look at her companion, who hadn't taken his eyes off the practice.
"Mmm," was the only reply she got and, noticing the amusement in Oliver's voice, she snapped her eyes back to him. "What do you think so far?" he asked, nodding towards the pitch.
"Is it really necessary to hover above me with the sun behind you? I can feel my neck starting to tense and the light is beginning to hurt my eyes."
"Tell me what you really think," he said with a smile after lowering himself to be level with her. "Isn't this amazing?" he asked, looking for all intents and purposes like a child on Christmas morning.
"I suppose," she said indifferently, hiding a smile at his appalled look.
"You 'suppose'?" he asked, sounding as though he'd never heard the word before. "This is the best sight in the world!"
At that he turned and looked out at the pitch again. Hermione looked back out at the scene, trying to find the beauty in it - and failed. All she saw was a dozen or so men playing around in mid-air on brooms.
"I've gotta use the little boys' room," Adrian said suddenly before standing up and walking out of the box. Hermione gave him an odd look as she watched him go.
"Shouldn't you be practicing?" she asked Oliver when he hovered for a few more minutes, showing no sign of moving to join his team.
"I'm second string, I don't have to practice tonight," he said before gesturing towards one of the players. "Kinner's the Keeper tonight," he explained, maneuvering the broom into the box and landing.
"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously when he took the seat next to her and carefully set his broom in front of their feet. "Shouldn't you be with the team?"
"No, I'm just at the game to support Puddlemere."
"But you were out there…"
"How else would you talk to someone in mid-air?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You're wearing the uniform," she tried again, not rising to the bait.
"I wore a Kestrels uniform last week and I wasn't playing," he pointed out as he watched the scene before him, leaning forward to see every so often, when the ball was dropped or a trick executed. "Erhen has a Halo '87; I want you to watch him when you get a chance," he said, glancing at her briefly before, once again, turning to the pitch.
"How long do they practice for?" she asked, looking at the door at the back of the box; Adrian still hadn't returned.
"Forty five minutes, then the other team comes out."
"I thought there were only seven people on a Quidditch team?" she said questioningly after making a count of the people on their brooms.
"Three are coaches and the other two are contest winners," he explained.
"Contest winners?" she asked, never having heard of a contest with this type of prize.
"Everyone involved in the Puddlemere club is entered for a chance to win a warm-up session with the team. Those two chose today to come because they're best mates and wanted the experience together."
"Does every team provide that opportunity?" she asked, instantly thinking of Ron and his Cannons obsession.
"Almost every team. The Cannons don't have it - probably too embarrassed of their actual games, much less practices," he said with a snort.
Hermione giggled a bit at his jibe and then looked at her watch. Adrian had been gone for more than twenty minutes.
"Did you see…what's wrong?" Oliver asked, seeing her glancing back at the door again and beginning to worry her bottom lip between her teeth.
"Adrian's been gone a while," she explained before standing up, intending to go and find him; while Oliver was good company, there was something about him that had her questioning his motives.
"I wouldn't bother."
The words caused her to halt and she turned to look at Oliver, who sighed and stood up, looking like a boy confessing to breaking the window with his ball, his shoulders slumped and his focus on the ground.
"What do you mean, you wouldn't bother?" she asked sharply, taking a few steps back, unsure of what he would do next.
"You don't get out much, do you?" he asked, causing her back to stiffen and her chin to lift up.
"I don't see the relevance of my social life in this conversation," she said in her 'work' voice, which had, in the past, caused a few interns to shake and leave without so much as uttering a word to her.
"You've been set up," he explained, walking towards her with a smile playing on his lips.
"What do you mean, set up? By whom?" she asked, letting her irritation show in her voice.
"Adrian owled me when you got the tickets and told me he wanted me to teach you more about Quidditch - and that you'd probably learn better if he weren't in the box. He's down in Erhen's box for the game; I'm in mine, with you."
"Why on earth did you agree to that? The little…" she trailed, off trying to think of any as-yet unpatented potions that had passed across her desk recently and would ensure a painful experience. "I'm going home," she proclaimed after another few seconds of thought, turning to leave.
"You're already here now; don't waste perfectly good tickets. I overlooked my little brother to give you those," he said, reaching out to grab her arm before she made it to the door.
"I didn't ask for the tickets," she snapped, feeling indignant at this revelation.
"But I gave them to you, and it would be rude to simply walk away from me once you've shown up and had a proper conversation with me."
"You're unbelievable," she said, gaping, even as she let him draw her back to her vacated seat.
"That's what I like to hear," he said with a grin before pushing her into her seat and sitting down in the one next to her. "Now, watch Franco - he's a Chaser; he'll be showing off his newest trick here pretty soon, it's like the…"
Hermione looked at Oliver out of the corner of her eye before she turned back to the field and listened to his orders, somehow knowing that this wouldn't be a game like those Harry and Ron took her to. Damn Adrian.
