AN: I'm sorry updates having been very frequent! My work schedule isn't the same every week anymore, and I've been remodeling my kitchen (but that's a whole other adulting issue). I won't be able to post every week until work calms down again, but I'll do my best to keep posting. Thanks for reading!

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Hermione should have known better, but when Harry gave her those damned puppy eyes…

They had left the party while it was still in full swing to go get drinks at the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione had wanted to stay a bit longer, but she had seen the anxiety of being in such a large crowd beginning to wear on both Harry and Draco. After saying goodbye to Miranda and transfiguring her costume into a much more comfortable outfit - much to Draco's disappointment - their group headed out for a nightcap.

Well, it was supposed to be a nightcap.

One drink swiftly turned into several drinks, and Hermione soon found herself to be the only semi-sober person at the table. Harry had invited Ginny who was leaning quite heavily on poor Luna. Ginny had invited George who had brought Angelina… Had Draco invited Theo or had Luna?

She had completely lost track, but being surrounded by so many friends left a warmth in her chest and a smile on her face. Or maybe that was the firewhiskey. Either way, when the discussion on quidditch inevitably began, Hermione was too tired and too tipsy to bother protesting. She had leaned her head on Draco's shoulder, closed her eyes, and let the conversation drift passed her.

When the conversation grew unusually quiet, she opened her eyes and was surprised to find the entire table staring at her with varying degrees of amusement and exasperation.

"I told you," Harry said to no one in particular. "Quidditch talk is the only way to shut her brain off."

"She was probably just thinking about her next big magical breakthrough," Ginny said with a good-natured roll of her eyes. "All work and no play, that one."

"She is right here." Hermione lightly kicked what she hoped was Ginny's shin under the table.

George yelped and his knee banged against the underside of the table.

"We were discussing who the better captain was while we were in school," Draco explained. His tone of voice told Hermione he fully expected her to agree that he was clearly the better quidditch captain.

Angelina gestured with her glass towards Harry and said, "This one here's allergic to raising his voice, so he shouldn't even be in the running."

"Oi!" Harry sat up straighter in his chair and leaned around George to glare at her. "I can yell when I need to."

"Sure you can, Harry." Hermione reached across the table to pat his arm reassuringly. "You're very assertive."

He must have missed the sarcasm in her voice because he shot Angelina a smug grin.

"Quidditch runs in our Weasley blood," George said. He threw his arm over the back of Angelina's chair and added with a confident grin, "Clearly Gin is the better captain. She's been playing since she could walk thanks to yours truly."

"If you trained her, then she shouldn't be in the running either," Draco argued.

This caused an immediate burst of arguing from all sides, and Hermione sighed into her glass of firewhiskey. She cared far too little for quidditch to be even mildly invested in the conversation. She began considering calling it a night or even getting another round of drinks. Devious thoughts of convincing Draco to leave with her were beginning to formulate when she felt all eyes on her once more.

"What now," she snapped.

Hardly fazed by her irritation, Harry said, "You're impartial, Hermione. You couldn't care less about quidditch, so you aren't biased. You also saw all of us in action, so who do you think was the better captain?"

Before she could answer, Luna chimed in, "She is dating Draco now, so she might have a bit of bias."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think you're all equally obsessed with the most worthless sport."

Ginny, Harry, and Draco managed to all give her identical expressions of indignation.

"Oh, don't look at me like that." Whether it was the alcohol, the lack of sleep, or her irritation over the conversation topic, Hermione spoke without thinking. "This entire argument is pointless. It's not as though any of you can prove who the better captain was. We aren't at Hogwarts anymore, and none of us have access to a pitch."

She had been too busy staring at the pitifully small amount of whiskey left in her glass to notice the conspiratorial glances being shared around the table.

Hugging her thick cloak tighter around herself, Hermione cursed herself for the hundredth time. She should know better than to give them that sort of opportunity.

Because Ginny is competitive. Harry and Draco are rivals. And she really should have known better.

It took one late night floo call to Neville Longbottom, who just so happened to be the current Herbology professor and Head of Gryffindor house at Hogwarts. The quick conversation through the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace launched a chain of events that Hermione did her best to stop. She truly tried, but she was largely outnumbered by fairly drunk and surprisingly coordinated quidditch enthusiasts. They managed to recruit not one, not two, but three full quidditch teams made up of their fellow Hogwarts alumni, including the ones that had been gathered at the table in the Leaky Cauldron.

So here she stood, shivering in the middle of the night, and watching Harry, Ginny, and Draco organize the first annual Midnight Quidditch Reunion Tournament.

Merlin, she hoped this didn't become a tradition. If it did, they could at least move it to the summer.

There was a surprisingly large turn out considering the whole thing had been thrown together only an hour before. Hermione stood at the edge of the Hogwarts quidditch pitch with Luna and waited for the arguing to settle enough to join their old classmates in the Hufflepuff stands. Looking up into the stands, Hermione couldn't help but smile. A few wore their old house scarves and hats, the sight of which filled her with warm nostalgia. Even though they were all sitting in the Hufflepuff stands rather than the Gryffindor, the sight of Harry and Ginny on the pitch with their brooms brought back many fond memories.

"I can't believe you didn't try to intervene," Hermione grumbled to Luna.

"And prevent my girlfriend from proving she is the best?" Luna asked with a proud smile. "I would never dream of it."

The three team captains were arguing among themselves over who would be in the first match, as well as who would make a decent referee. Madam Hooch was unfortunately asleep in the castle, and they knew better than to try and wake her at such an ungodly hour.

Ginny and Draco were nose to nose, despite the noticeable height difference, and looked ready to move from yelling to blows when a hush fell over the pitch.

Approaching them and wearing a heavy, tartan cloak and matching hat was Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.

In spite of the fact that none of them had been her students for several years, Professor McGonagall had the immediate and silent attention of every young adult in the crowd.

Hermione snuggled deeper into her cloak and felt an odd combination of relief and disappointment.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said sternly. Her voice carried easily through the entire pitch. "Are you aware that I have a castle full of students trying to sleep?"

Harry flushed in embarrassment and scuffed the toe of his shoe against the ground. "I'm sorry, Professor. We were doing our best to be quiet."

"I'm sure you were." She looked out over the crowd, observing their anxious faces, faded house scarves, and hastily thrown together team banners. Was that a smile tugging at her lips?

"If we put up silencing wards, will you let us play?" Ginny leaned against the handle of her broom and nodded her head in Hermione's direction. "We've got several reputations on the line here, and I'm sure Hermione wouldn't mind putting one up."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She wouldn't mind, but Ginny could have at least asked first.

Professor McGonagall looked at Draco, Harry, and Ginny in turn. "I have the feeling that, whether I agreed to this or not, you would still play. How many matches?"

"Three," Draco said.

"And you already have your teams decided on? You would be ready to start immediately?"

Ginny glanced at Harry and said, "We have three teams, but we can't start until we pick out a referee."

Harry nodded. "Everyone here is too biased."

Hermione realized what Draco was thinking the moment before he asked his question. He had gotten that look on his face, the scheming look that said he had thought of something quite clever. She had to give him credit for having the balls to actually say it.

"Would you be our referee, Headmistress?"

Harry and Ginny looked at him as though he had completely lost his mind.

Undeterred he said, "You are a passionate quidditch fan and a strict rule follower. All of us have been your students at one point or another, and I know we can trust you to look past the houses we used to belong to." He smiled sweetly at her which only served to further unsettle everyone watching. "You would make the perfect referee."

Minerva's skeptical gaze searched Draco's face for any ulterior motives, but the quidditch fanatic inside her simply could not resist. "I suppose," she said in a measured tone, "it would be best for such childish behavior to be carefully monitored. After all, I am sure you three will be determined to carry out your mischief whether you have my permission or not."

Harry looked rather embarrassed while Ginny grinned impishly at Minerva, unashamed of their tendency to flout the rules.

"Very well, I will agree to be your referee."

The still somewhat drunk adults gathered around her began cheering, and Hermione could see the smile Minerva tried to hide at their enthusiasm.

"Yes, alright." Minerva tried to quiet them down and said, "If there are to be three matches, you will need a fourth team. The first two teams will face off, then the last two. The winners of both matches will then face off, and we will see who the superior team is."

"Team captain," Harry corrected her without thinking. He smiled sheepishly and said, "We're playing for superior team captain."

Minerva sighed and said, "Of course. Team captain. I am going to go fetch warmer clothes from my office since we will most assuredly be out here until the wee hours of the morning. Have your teams sorted by the time I return."

Hermione tried to hide the relief she felt when she realized there weren't any other retired team captains present. Harry had even tried to get Oliver Wood involved, but he was away training with his professional team. If they weren't able to find a fourth captain, maybe she could finally go to bed. She sighed in disappointment when she saw Blaise approaching the group.

"My time to shine then?" Blaise joined the three captains gathered on the field and patted Draco on the back. "I always wanted to be a team captain, but this one was too much of an addict and control freak."

"I prefer 'dedicated'," Draco said. "If you can pull a full quidditch team out of your arse, then you can join the competition; if that's alright with Potter and Weasley, of course."

Harry and Ginny murmured their agreement, no doubt expecting Blaise to change his mind. Instead, Blaise put his fingers to his lips and blew a sharp whistle. A handful of alumni that Hermione recognized as an odd combination of Slytherins and Ravenclaws strode onto the field.

Draco shook his head and said, "Merlin, Blaise, you're so dramatic."

"You're life would be boring without me." Blaise shrugged and asked, "Do we have four full teams?"

"I think." Harry glanced around the pitch and scratched the back of his neck, his face pinched as he tried to do quick mental math. "We might need a —"

"Need another Keeper?"

Hermione's gaze snapped to the far end of the pitch, and her heart dropped into her stomach.

Wearing a faded Gryffindor jersey and carrying a scuffed up broom across his shoulders, Ron Weasley approached the team captains with a confident gait across the pitch.

"Oh bullocks," Luna cursed quietly beside her. "He has the worst timing."

The shock Hermione felt at Luna's cursing nearly outweighed her concern over the swiftly developing situation at the center of the pitch.

"We should get over there before they do something rash," Pansy said calmly. She rose from her seat, took Hermione's hand, and began quickly leading her to the center of the pitch.

The three women made it over to their friends just as Ron said, "Charlie got George's invitation to a midnight quidditch match, and I thought you could use the King."

"Sorry, Weasley," Draco sneered. "This is an adults only tournament."

"I wasn't talking to you, Malfoy," Ron snapped back. "Fuck off."

Hermione immediately stepped up beside Draco and reprimanded, "Ron, there's no need to be so aggressive."

"Hey, Mione." He smiled sweetly at her and took a step in her direction. "We should talk after the match. I've been meaning to owl you since our little tiff in your shop."

Draco leaned closer towards her and wrapped his arm around her waist. The tension rolled off of him in waves.

Ron saw Draco's arm around her waist, and his face began turning red. "You've got to be bloody joking," he shouted. Gesturing between Hermione and Draco, he demanded, "What's this then?"

"None of your business," Draco immediately snapped. "You lost that right when you threw a lamp at her."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I didn't throw it at her, just near her."

"You what?" Harry immediately stepped in front of Ron, nearly toe-to-toe with him. "You threw a bloody lamp at her?"

Ginny dropped her broom and advanced on her brother. "I knew you were an idiot, but now you've really done it."

Ron began backing away from everyone, his hands raised in a defensive position. "Hey, hey, it wasn't my fault! Malfoy started it."

Covering Draco's hand on her hip with her own, Hermione silently willed him to stay out of the argument. She was prepared to cast a body-bind if necessary, but Luna appeared in front of Draco.

Her wide, blue eyes looked surprisingly serious, and she spoke firmly but quietly to him. "Do not let him ruin this. His words are empty and only matter as much as you allow them to. He speaks blindly with childish emotion that he has yet to move past." She held her hand up and let it hover between them, her palm facing his chest where his heart was. "You know the truth of what you feel."

Hermione opened her mouth to ask what Luna was saying, but was interrupted by Ron shouting across the pitch.

"We all know he's only using her for the good publicity and a quick shag!"

All the color drained from Draco's face, and his grey eyes lit with rage.

"Don't," Luna said softly.

Hermione squeezed his hand tighter and said, "Draco, look at me."

He hesitated, his gaze fixed firmly on Ron as though he could hex him with his eyes. Slowly, his eyes drifted to the side and met Hermione's. "It isn't true."

"I know it isn't." She turned to face him fully and tried to smile despite the indignation roiling inside her. "Do not let him ruin our night. We were having such a good time with our friends, do not let him ruin that."

Luna left them to go try and talk Ginny down from pummeling her brother. Harry was trying to hold Ginny back, but Hermione couldn't tell if it was to protect Ron or so Harry could have the first swing at him.

"He has no right," Draco said in a low voice. His eyes had turned back to the shouting and he sounded strained, no doubt from trying to keep his temper in check. "Where has he been in all of this?"

"It doesn't matter." Hermione's chest felt hollow, as though her bones were squeezing her heart until it ached with every beat and all of the air had escaped her lungs. This was her best friend, screaming across a quidditch pitch in front of everyone they knew that she was nothing more than a quick lay and easy publicity stunt. The truth of what she said, that Ron's opinion no longer mattered like it used to, hurt her more than the things he was saying. "He wasn't there, and it doesn't matter."

She felt a hand gently cup her cheek and looked up at Draco.

His eyes searched hers, and whatever he found there made him frown and reach up to hold her face with both hands. He brushed his thumb gently over her cheek bone and said, "I'm sorry, Hermione. If you need to leave, we can go. Your place or mine, it doesn't matter." He glanced once to the group still arguing and quickly looked back to her. "Whatever you need."

For some reason those words, "whatever you need", absolutely shattered the anxiety constricting her heart. Her lungs filled with air and tears sprung to her eyes.

Draco's reassuring gaze quickly turned to panic. "Love, why are you crying?"

Hermione turned her face into his hand and tried to get control of herself. After a few breaths, she said, "I can't… Not here."

He pressed his lips to her temple and let them rest there for a few moments. The rest of the pitch fell away, and Hermione let his comforting touch ground her. "You don't have to. Do you want to stay," he whispered against her skin. "Or do you need to go?"

"We can stay." She cleared her throat and swiped at the tears that had managed to escape onto her cheeks. She took a deep breath and then smiled up at him. "You had better go out there and win every match. Show them my boyfriend is the best quidditch captain Hogwarts has ever seen."

Pride sparked in his eyes and he gave her his cockiest smile. "Only if you promise to cheer for me from the stands."

Hermione took his hand and began leading him back over to their friends. "Alright, but I'm not wearing green."

They came to stand beside George and Angelina who were trying to stand casually despite the wands in their hands. Their eyes were trained on Harry, Ginny, and Ron who were all still going at it. Without looking at them, George said, "We need to break them up before it comes to blows."

"Who even invited him," Draco asked.

"Charlie," Angelina said with a sigh. "Either he didn't know this would happen, or he was forced to invite him."

Hermione was ready to intervene despite the inevitably horrible consequences, but Charlie beat her to it.

"Honestly, Ron," Charlie growled and grabbed his brother by the back of his shirt. "I invited you to come with me so you could apologize, you git."

"Apologize for what?" Ron shouted indignantly. He tried to pull himself free from his brother's grip, but Charlie held strong.

Ginny hollered back, "For being the world's biggest prat." She leaned around Luna who was trying futilely to block her view of Ron. "Pull your head out of your arse or go home!"

"Pull my head — I'm here to play quidditch with my mates!" Ron pointed an accusing finger in Draco's direction which caused Hermione to stiffen. "Malfoy's the one that wanted to pick a fight."

"If I wanted to fight you, Weasley, you'd know it." Draco's voice was calm, but Hermione could see the aggression still bubbling under the surface.

Ron pulled free of Charlie's grasp and snarled, "Is that a fucking threat?" He took a menacing step forward but was stopped by Pansy.

Hermione blinked at her sudden appearance; she hadn't even seen the woman move.

Pansy stepped in front of Ron and held her hand up in his face, effectively blocking his view of everything but her well-manicured nails.

"Move, Parkinson." He tried to sound threatening, but Pansy didn't even blink.

"Go home, Weasley. You've made a fool of yourself, and the number of people who want you here is horribly outnumbered by the ones that don't." She lowered her hand and tilted her head to the side, eyes full of amusement and pity. "You should leave before you tarnish whatever scraps of friendship you might still have with them."

Ron opened his mouth, face red and ready to hurl more insults, but Pansy cut him off again.

"You are not wanted here." She took a step towards him forcing him to step back. Her smile was unsettling and far from friendly. "I suggest you leave before I am forced to make you."

"As if a worthless Slytherin bitch like you could make me do anything," he hissed. "You're nothing but a two-bit whore, and I bet you weren't even invited here. Trying to get some of the good light that shines on my mates? Not even that could save your reputation."

Pansy rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Weasley, the next time you decide to argue with me, at least try and come prepared. Nothing about you is intimidating; from your sub-par quidditch skills to your lackluster social life, there is nothing about you that I could ever consider envying. The only thing you have going for you is the friendship of a few lovely individuals," she said with a glance over her shoulder. Her eyes glittered with amusement, and Hermione began to wonder if she was enjoying this. "And you may not have that for much longer."

Ron finally looked past Pansy and seemed to realize the aggression of the group standing behind her. Even Harry looked ready to curse him. He scoffed and snatched his broom from where it had been discarded on the ground. He threw a few more insults and then stormed off the pitch.

"If you all are quite finished." Headmistress McGonagall had returned to the pitch near the end of the arguing, and she was glaring fiercely at all of them. "I would have hoped that some of you would have grown and matured since graduation." She gave each of them a pointed look in turn and said, "I can see that I was mistaken. Clearly you children will need to be managed just as before."

Hermione was surprised that no one protested at being called children, but based on the chastised and embarrassed expressions on everyone around her, no one disagreed.

"Well then," Minerva said with a sharp clap of her hands. "I assume you found a fourth team?" Various fingers pointed to Blaise and his team, and Minerva nodded her approval. "Very well. Mister Malfoy and Miss Weasley, your teams will play first. The rest of you, to the stands."

Everyone quickly rushed to the stands, and excited chatter began to break out as everyone debated the outcome of the match. Hermione gave Draco a quick kiss on the cheek and said, "Good luck."

"I don't need it," he said with a cheeky grin, "but thanks, love." He kissed her forehead and went to join his team.

Hermione, Luna, and Pansy made their way back into the stands and settled in for what would no doubt be a long night.