A/N - Hey guys! Back after a bit! Been busy with a few other things. Updates will probably be weekly now because I'll be taking part in the Fantasy Quidditch League *woot woot*
This chapter seems v random now that I think about it but it's necessary for the story.
Hermione didn't know how much longer she could keep this up. Managing so many classes was proving to be a greater strain than she had imagined. Harry and Ron were being completely hopeless as always but at least they had started talking to her again.
She had spent her entire Christmas studying at home. The New Year hadn't turned out much differently. Late February and she found herself looking at more books than people. One unexpected thing was that she had found someone to talk to while spending her days in the library and it was the last person she would have expected.
"Granger, how on earth are you managing all these classes?"
She looked up from her Arithmancy homework and was unsurprised at seeing a pale blonde head eyeing her suspiciously.
"Like I've said before, Draco, I happen to rather skilled at time management."
He snorted at her reply and sat down at the opposite side of her table. Hermione had grown used to Malfoy's company over the last month or so. He had stopped trying to get a rise out of her ever since she took Tori's advice and stopped taking his words to heart.
"So have you finished the Transfiguration essay?" she asked while scribbling down a few things.
"Yes. But it took more time than usual because McGonagall's being a prick," he scoffed.
"Don't be dramatic. It can't be as bad as Gryffindors facing Snape." She rolled her eyes and put aside her Arithmancy. She pulled out her essay on Werewolves and checked it for any last minute mistakes.
"Granger, that's the fourth time I've seen you reread that particular essay. Merlin knows how many times you've actually gone over it," his drawl brought her out of her thoughts.
"No harm in double checking."
"Is that what you call it?" he snorted, "I call it obsessive compulsiveness."
"Why are you here, Draco? It's not like you wanted to come and chat aimlessly so you might as well spit it out."
He looked a little uncomfortable and ran a hand through his hair.
"Well, if you must know, I'm tired of everyone speculating about the Slytherin-Hufflepuff game. It's annoying. And you're the only person I know who doesn't give a rat's arse about the game. So I figured I'd come over and bother you."
"Fantastic idea," she muttered.
"Wasn't it?" he smirked.
Their library encounters would always revolve around academics and Hermione felt almost relieved to have someone to talk to about essays and assignments. Someone who didn't put things away till the last minute. Someone who actually bothered studying. Someone who was a bit of a teacher's pet as well. Someone like Draco Malfoy.
He had a very dry sense of humor and Hermione enjoyed his jokes as long as they weren't racist, sexist or bigoted.
She felt strangely important because he had sought her out as company when he didn't want to hang out with his friends. It was weird. But she couldn't say that she disliked it.
A little later she saw Tori enter the library with a few books in her hands. She hadn't really spoken to her since the train to Hogwarts after Christmas. Recalling their last topic of conversation, he gaze fluttered to her Defense Against The Dark Arts essay once again. Malfoy saw that and rolled his eyes, getting up and leaving with a curt goodbye. He spied Tori on the way out and sneered at her almost out of reflex.
"Hermione, you're in the library again?"
"I have so much homework to finish."
"That's ridiculous. How can a third year have more work than seventh years? How many additionals have you taken up?" she asked curiously.
Hermione turned bright red and started rambling about how she needed to take a few extra classes in order to get a more well rounded idea of magic. Tori saw her discomfort and decided to change the subject.
"Is that your Werewolf essay for Snape?"
"Y-yes. It is. Actually," she paused, as if trying to decide something in her head, "I wanted to talk to you about that."
"Go on."
"Have you noticed anything? About, you know, Lupin?"
"Anything like?"
"It's just… well… The full moon and the times of his absence. Some very strange scar marks and of course, his Boggart."
"His Boggart?"
"It's a full moon."
Tori stopped short. She had given this idea a lot of thought ever since she had spoken to Hermione on the train. But the information regarding the Boggart seemed to solidify the case in favor of the conclusion she had drawn.
"But that would mean…"
"I know," Hermione tried to tame her bushy hair and huffed in exasperation.
"But that doesn't make any sense! Why would Dumbledore not tell anyone?"
"I think you know why, Hermione."
She bit her lip. Of course she knew. If Lupin was indeed a werewolf, he was one of the most shunned people in wizarding society. But it was so hard to conceive the idea of gentle, calm Lupin actually being a ferocious werewolf.
"Listen Hermione, I don't think we should jump to any conclusions. What we think may or may not be true. But that doesn't change who Prof. Lupin is. He's a brilliant professor and a really kind man. He's the best Defense Against The Dark Arts professor I've had and I've never seen someone become so popular with the students so quickly. Even the Slytherins are running out of things to sneer at. Promise me that this won't affect your view of him."
Hermione nodded her head. Tori was right. She had no definite proof and even if her suspicions were true, how did that change anything. Lupin was still Lupin and her admiration for the young professor actually went up a little thinking about how he must be dealing with his situation.
'Need any help with Ancient Runes?"
"I do, actually," Hermione said sheepishly.
…
"Victoria, that was excellent!"
Tori grinned at Lupin tiredly. She had just demonstrated her modified Aguamenti spell a few times and was now munching on a chocolate frog.
"I'm very impressed. And given that you took a little less than a couple of months to modify it, I think we might even start moving onto spell creation theory. But that's up to you. If you want to modify another spell, we can work on that. Moving onto spell creation could take at least 6 months. So think about that and let me know next week. For now, go back and get some rest. You deserve it," he finished with a smile.
Tori couldn't help but notice the fresh scars on his face. Was her theory correct? Her heart sank incredibly thinking about how Lupin might be coping with Lycanthropy. She could hardly imagine it herself.
"Goodnight, Professor. Thank you very much."
…
Sunday morning meant that very few people were in the Dining Hall before 9. Tori was one of the few who woke up to catch the breakfast before it vanished from the plates. She saw Hermione and a couple of fourth years sitting at the Gryffindor table and unsurprisingly, Oliver Wood.
"Morning, Oliver," she said, sitting down beside him.
"Tori! Good morning," he said, slightly startled by her appearance. His hair was disheveled and she could see that he had been biting his lip for a while.
"Quidditch got you worried?" she asked with a grin.
"Yeah. How'd you know?" he asked sheepishly.
"Doesn't it always?"
"That's not true! I have other things on my mind!"
"Kidding. Oliver, jeez. Pick up your sense of humor. I think you dropped it somewhere on the Quidditch pitch," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Right," he grinned and dropped a large biscuit into her glass of milk, effectively splashing her, "I think I've found it."
She glared at him and fished out the biscuit, holding it gingerly and flinging it on his plate of eggs.
"I guess I deserved that."
"Well done! Gold medal for Woody!"
He grinned and attacked his food. Tori grimaced as he shoved in a mouthful of egg along with the soggy biscuit. Oliver ate practically everything. Apparently, he needed to build muscle if he was going to play pro.
"How's practice going?"
He looked at her incredulously for a few seconds.
"What? I know you're dying to talk about it. So go ahead. I don't hate the sport, Oliver."
"Okay. You can't complain later, yeah?"
She rolled her eyes and nodded.
"Parkin's Pincer. What the fuck am I going to do about that? I still can't figure out how Angelina, Alicia and Katie can combat that."
Parkin's Pincer involved two Chasers closing in on an opposing Chaser with the third flying directly at them from the other side. It was a very common play used by Slytherin with a lot more shoving and elbowing involved.
"You can try the Double Dip."
"The what?"
"Have you even been following the League this season?"
"I have!"
"Even the Cannons?"
"Maybe," he muttered.
"Ha! Knew it! Okay, so in the first game between the Cannons and Arrows this season, they tried a technique against the Parkin's Pincer. Double Dip is basically when two Chasers fly in a pair and the one holding the Quaffle either drops down or goes up and pairs with the third Chaser according to how the Pincer was attacking. It makes it harder to form a pincer around the Chaser with the Quaffle."
"That's interesting. I think I remember it. But I probably blocked it out because the Cannons were involved."
Tori chuckled and started munching on an apple.
"The Arrows are playing really well this season. I think they're going to win the League."
"They are. But their Keeper isn't too good. The Magpies will trounce them at home and the gap between them and the Falcons will be reduced to less than three points. They'll still need to lose another game by a huge margin to lose the League to the Falcons. My money's on the Harpies to inflict that defeat."
"No way!" he scoffed, "Arrows won't lose two matches by such a huge margin. The Harpies are good but not that good that their Seeker will catch the Snitch before Andrews."
Timothy Andrews was the Seeker of the Appleby Arrows and one of the best in the League.
"You're just saying that because you're a bloody sexist at heart, Oliver. Take my word, Jones will catch the Snitch before Andrews. And the Arrows will lose by more than two hundred."
"Is that a bet?"
"It could be? But what would we bet on anyway?"
"Whoever loses has to answer one question truthfully."
"That's so unbelievably lame, Oliver. How can you have been on the same team as Fred and George for so many years?"
"Any better ideas?"
She shook her head after a while and he grinned. Would she ask him why he had avoided her after their run-in during the Christmas break? Maybe this bet wasn't such a bad idea.
"Next Sunday will be the day of reckoning. I'll meet you by the lake after breakfast, yeah?"
"Alright," she grinned at his dramatic statement.
"Now help me with strategizing."
Tori and Oliver eventually shifted to the library and continued discussing Quidditch tactics and matches for a long time. Slowly, the conversation moved on to academics and Tori was surprised to learn that Oliver had gotten six O's, two E's and one A in his OWLs. He had taken up Ancient Runes and Arithmancy in sixth year but dropped the former because of his exhausting Quidditch schedule.
"Why did you keep Herbology?"
"Because I got an Outstanding," he said, smirking at her.
She whacked his arm with a particularly heavy book and he winced slightly.
"That's what you get for being a git."
"Alright. Sorry. Because I quite like the greenhouses and I couldn't deal with another two years of Kettleburn teaching us."
"You have only 5 NEWTs. I have 7."
"No one asked you to be such an overachiever," he grinned and ruffled her hair.
"Oi! No messing with the hair!"
"Why not?" he leaned towards her with a sly smile on his face. He lunged forward and wrapped one arm around her shoulder while using his other hand to mess up her hair further. Tori squirmed under his grip, enjoying and shuddering the physical contact.
"Geroff!" she shoved him and a stack of books fell from the table with a loud thud.
"Fuck."
"Pince!"
They whispered in unison and scrambled out of the library, coming to a halt only after entering the Gryffindor common room. Tori saw that Oliver's guard was down and quickly took out her wand and tapped his back, muttering a few words.
"Oliver!"
"Just the man we wanted to see!"
"How've you been this fine day?"
"Coming up with some fantastic plays, no doubt!"
"And he's with our Head Strategist!"
"Can't think of anything else they'd be doing."
"Yeah. Quidditch all the way."
"We'll definitely have quite a few new things to try out during practice."
"Speaking of which, when's the next one?"
"Wednesday, I believe."
"You believe correct, my dear Fred."
"See you around, Oliver! Don't do anything we wouldn't!"
"Yeah, Tori's amazing but she's still our Head Girl."
With that, the twins attempted a quick getaway but Oliver was too fast for them.
"Not so fast. The next practice is on Monday. Which is tomorrow. 5 am sharp. Late-comers get fifty suicides each."
They groaned in unison and nodded their heads.
"So close."
"What was that?"
"Nothing, Oliver. Just wondering about your latest style statement."
Oliver looked confused and glared at the twins.
"What?"
"Your jumper."
"What about it?"
"Aw, Ollie! We didn't know you were so insecure about relationships. Don't worry, we'll make sure you get a nice girlfriend," said Fred.
"Or boyfriend. We don't judge," chimed in George.
"What the bloody hell are you two on about?"
By this time a large group of Gryffindors had gathered and they were sniggering and pointing at Oliver's back.
"Will somebody tell me what's going on?!"
Harry stepped out of the crowd and spoke softly, trying to fight back a giggle.
"The back of your jumper says 'I'm A Keeper'."
The common room burst into hysteric laughter and Oliver stared dumbfounded at everyone. At first he thought it was the twins but then he caught a glimpse of Tori standing a little away and eyeing him mischievously. She winked and that was all the confirmation he needed.
…
"NO!"
"Fucking hell, Tori! Why're you wailing like a banshee in our dorm? Go snog the Head Boy or something."
"Jeez, Alex. We all know that Greengrass has a girlfriend," said Liz, combing her hair. She was the only one awake when Tori burst in.
"Fine. Go shag Wood then."
"Alex!"
Alex heard the tone of warning in Tori's voice and quickly amended her statement.
"Well, he's the only seventh year without a girlfriend. Unless you fancy younger blokes. Which I'm all for."
She got a pillow to the face for that which she promptly rolled over and sank into.
"What's the matter, Tori?" asked Mary.
"The Harpies lost to the Arrows."
"And you're trying to pierce our eardrums because...?"
"Ugh! Never mind!"
She walked down the stairs and made her way to breakfast. Luckily she didn't have to watch Oliver gloat while eating. What a sight that would have been. She grudgingly walked to the lake and caught a glimpse of his brown hair. She could instinctively tell whether a head of brown hair belonged to him or not. Joy. The great powers of a crush.
"I'm here. Ask your damn question," she mumbled, settling down with a huff.
"Ah! There she is! How was the game, love?" he grinned cheekily.
"Just shut up and ask before I hex you."
"Fine, fine. Okay, so I want to know your exact relationship with Quidditch. All this knowledge can't be just from listening to your dad speak about it."
Tori stiffened. She should have seen this coming. She had let herself go and had discussed Quidditch freely with Oliver. He was bound to ask her something along this line sooner or later. In that moment, she took a drastic decision.
"I'll tell you. But you have to promise not to mention this to anyone else."
"Go on," he nodded, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
"I love Quidditch. I've been playing since I was five."
Oliver's mouth fell open and he was about to protest but Tori stopped him.
"You have to listen to everything before you say anything."
"My dad's pretty obsessed about the game. I've never lied about that. In fact, he was quite frightening with his desire to make me play. He would have gone crazy trying to get me onto the team and seeing me play. I couldn't handle that level of pressure. Especially regarding something I loved and enjoyed so much. So I did what I thought was the best at the age of eleven. I told him that Hogwarts didn't have Quidditch."
"I know it was stupid. But I managed to convince him and I had to keep my interest locked away during term. I play whenever I go back home and the only reason my dad doesn't bug me about it is because he thinks I'm not allowed to play over here."
"I'm sorry I haven't told you about this before. No one knows that I can play. Not even Alex."
Oliver sat silently for a long time. Tori tried to read the expression on his face but he just looked younger and more confused than ever.
"What position do you play?"
"Whatever suits my mood. But usually Seeker."
"You could've tried out after Charlie left."
"I know. I'm sorry about that. But you've got Harry now. So everything worked out fine."
"I suppose," he said uncertainly, "are you really that interested in the sport?"
"What have you gathered from our talks so far?"
He grinned at her and she smiled back. Stupid git.
"Favorite team?"
"Merlin! You had only one question. No more."
"Aw. Come on, Tori. Please!"
"I'm definitely going to regret this," she muttered to herself, " Puddlemere."
"You're yanking my chain."
"I wish."
"That's fantastic! So you'll be supporting me next season," he added with a wink.
"Definitely regretting this," she muttered and threw a handful of leaves at him.
…
Review people! And suggestions would be nice. No one has suggested anything so far. Looking forward to you reactions.
Cheers!