A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! I am so glad that you are enjoying the story and that you enjoyed the silly little plot that Arthur tried to pull. Can't believe he thought he'd get away with it. You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions. Huge thank you to kristeristerin for beta reading this chapter!
Please let me know what you thought of chapter seven and be on the lookout for chapter eight in a few days!
November 1967
The thought of going to a Gryffindor - Slytherin Quidditch match filled Hermione with a persistent sort of resentment. She would not be watching Harry Potter making risky moves to catch the snitch with Ron Weasley barely able to contain his excitement. It would not be Ginny Weasley's fiery red hair racing around the pitch. Instead, she'd be sitting with a trio of giggling girls who were somehow worse than Lavender and Parvati, and it would be Arthur Weasley who held the beater's bat.
When she woke up, she found that she had a permanent lump in her throat, feeling the loss of her friends more keenly than ever. She didn't want to be here in the past, all alone, save for ghosts from her future. She couldn't just relax and have fun as Dumbledore continually reminded her to do. She wanted to know what was being done to get her back to her proper time, instead of worrying about pointless assignments.
By the time that she was walking down to breakfast in the Great Hall, she had nearly convinced herself not to go to the match. She could spend the afternoon blissfully alone tucked away in her room where no one would be able to see her crying if a tear or two should drop down her face. She was so focused on her own little pity party that she didn't notice the figure standing in front of her until she ran into it.
Strong hands reached out for her shoulders, keeping her standing upright. Hermione's eyes darted up, only to see the blue eyes of Rodolphus Lestrange shining with amusement. "What are you doing with your head up in the sky, Granger?" he quipped with one of his half-grins. "Imagining me up on my broom?"
She snorted in amusement, wishing she could really tell him exactly how wrong he was. "You wish, Lestrange," she answered. "Now, let me pass."
"Aw, come on, don't be like that," he teased, though he released her arms from his grasp. "Are you sure I can't convince you to cheer for me today?"
Before Hermione could respond, she was shocked to feel someone slinging an arm over her shoulders. Turning her head, Hermione was shocked to see Arthur standing next to her, glaring at Rodolphus. "Didn't you hear her? She asked you to leave her alone," he sneered at the Slytherin.
Rodolphus held his hands up in mock surrender. "Whatever Weasley," he said, obviously annoyed that they'd been interrupted, before turning on his heel and marching off in the direction of the Slytherin table.
Hermione felt embarrassment and annoyance fill her body. She couldn't believe that the two of them had done that in front of the whole school. Glaring at Arthur, she slunk from underneath his arm. "I didn't need your help. I can handle Lestrange on my own, Arthur," she scolded him before heading off in the direction of the Gryffindor table.
Arthur was hot on her heels, shoving his hand back through his hair. "I just...Lestrange isn't a nice guy Hermione," he tried to explain. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"I know that," she insisted, sitting between Fawn and Lottie, leaving no room for Arthur to continue the conversation. She wished she could tell him exactly how much she knew his words to be the truth, but that would be revealing too much of the future. She couldn't chance changing anything more than she undoubtedly already had.
If her friends had noticed the unusual interaction she'd had with the two seventh year boys, they were pointedly not saying anything about it, and for once, Hermione was grateful. She wondered what they thought about Rodolphus's peculiar interest in her. She couldn't imagine what it was that made him so concerned with her and who she was cheering for in the first place. But, she also couldn't bring herself to ask, even though Lottie always had the most gossip in the whole school.
After breakfast, Hermione and the girls made their way down to the pitch for the game, arms linked together. Fawn was happily telling them about a Ravenclaw who she had her eye on, which was unusual for the normally studious girl. It seemed that she had been incredibly distracted lately due to his chocolate colored hair, and was totally unable to focus on her Charms work, owing to the fact that he always chose the spot in front of her.
Elna and Lottie were full of all sorts of advice of how to get his attention, revolving mostly around the makeover they were dying to give her. The others scoffed at Hermione's rather modern idea of just asking him out to Hogsmeade. "Come on, it's the twentieth century!" Hermione had encouraged. "It's not as if there is anything wrong with a girl asking out a boy."
By the time that they made it to the pitch, the crowd was roaring and both teams had already taken to the pitch, even though the game hadn't started. Hating herself, Hermione found her eyes searching out Rodolphus riding on his broom in Slytherin green uniform. She didn't want to admit it, but he did look rather attractive in his uniform. Dreamy, hadn't the girls said? It didn't seem to do him justice.
Shaking her head, Hermione tried to let herself get into the game. For once, she wasn't terrified that her best friend was going to get seriously hurt doing some kind of spectacular dive to catch the snitch. Instead, she was able to watch the whole game. It really wasn't anything like football, the sport other muggleborns often compared it to. And, if Hermione was honest, she still found it rather boring. Everything seemed a bit nonsensical when she really thought of it. What was the point of the chasers when catching the snitch netted so many more points? It was rare that a team would win on points and not catch the snitch. Really, couldn't they just have one or the other? And, for that matter, what was the point of the beaters and bludgers, other than to satisfy the wizarding world's need to inject a certain barbaric quality into everything they did?
Speaking of bludgers and beaters, Hermione's attention was suddenly drawn to Arthur who was winding up and sending the black ball hurtling away from him with a crack that reverberated across the pitch. Watching the trajectory, she felt her stomach riot when she realized it was heading right towards Rodolphus and he didn't even see it coming.
The bludger connected with his side, knocking him straight off of his broom and down to the grass below. She watched in horror as he was only just stopped before he reached the ground by the referee. Unable to tell what was going on with the injured Slytherin, Hermione could only watch in disgust as Arthur was cheered on by his teammates for seriously hurting another player.
Rodolphus was substituted out of the game, being ushered back towards the school by the matron, cradling his arm to his chest. The game resumed, but it was won shortly by Slytherin when Niall Harper caught the snitch. Disappointment abounded amongst the Gryffindor fans, but Hermione couldn't help but think that it served them right for resorting to tactics like Arthur had.
There was still a party in the Common Room when they got back, but Hermione just couldn't get into the spirit. A small part of her was still concerned about Rodolphus, and she just knew that she wouldn't be able to relax until she knew that he was okay. Sneaking out to the Infirmary Ward wasn't nearly as difficult as she thought it would be. Even though she had friends in this new time period, most Gryffindors were not too concerned with Hermione Granger. It was times like these that she was glad for the anonymity.
The halls were unusually quiet, the students perhaps taking to their own revelry in their own Common Rooms. Hermione almost wished that she would cross paths with some Professor or other students who would question her about what she was doing and encourage her to scurry back to her own house. Instead, her feet carried her all the way to the Infirmary.
There was no sign of the matron or any Slytherin teammates lingering inside to check on their laid up chaser. Hermione pressed a hand against the door wondering if she was really going to go in or not. Knowing that she was brave at heart, she took a deep breath and walked inside with a purpose. A startled noise made her stop in her tracks.
"Granger?" Rodolphus asked sounding surprised. "Are you really here or is it just the potion Madame Middlebury gave me?"
Hermione turned to face him, his arm cradled protectively against his chest. "I was...I was just going to ask for a potion. I've got a...a terrible headache," she lied, cursing herself for not considering the possibility that he might be awake. She was just going to pop in and make sure that he was okay, and then get out again, all without being noticed.
"Oh is that all?" he asked, sarcastically. "And here I thought that you might be here to apologize for siccing your boyfriend on me."
"Arthur isn't my boyfriend," she insisted fiercely, catching Rodolphus by surprise. "And I didn't ask him to hurt you. I'm thoroughly irritated that he is being congratulated for it, I can assure you," she added before creeping forward towards the bed that he was laid up in. She might not particularly like Rodolphus, but she also didn't want him to be hurt.
He gave her a half grin, before struggling to sit up more in the bed and not jostle his arm too much. "Alright, then, I believe you," he quipped once he was settled. Somehow, even when he was laid up in the hospital wing, he still looked far more attractive than he should. Hermione briefly wondered what happened to transform him into the Rodolphus Lestrange that she knew. Could Azkaban really destroy a person so much?
"How are you, then?" she asked, now that the jig was up. There was no point in not asking when she'd been caught in the first place. "It looked like a vicious hit."
"I've had worse," Rodolphus said, sounding rather cavalier. "I broke my arm and dislocated my shoulder, but Madame Middlebury was able to fix it up fairly quickly. It's the bruising and the soreness that will be a real bitch to deal with. Probably have to miss practice for a week."
Hermione rolled her eyes. Leave it to a Quidditch player to think that missing practice was the worst thing that could happen, not the fact that his bones literally had to be mended. If only he knew what it was like for a muggle, she was sure he wouldn't be nearly so blase about it all. "So if she was able to patch you up, what are you still doing here?"
"She wants to just keep me overnight, I suppose to make sure everything healed correctly in the morning," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, only to hiss in pain when he lifted the arm that had been dislocated.
"Hm, I can see why," Hermione said smartly, thinking that it was a good idea to keep him, especially if he was in this much pain still. Sometimes, rest was the best prescription, and keeping someone in the Infirmary could be the only way to force them to do it. She knew that far too well herself. "Alright, well, I should be going back to my dormitory."
"Hermione," Rodolphus called towards her retreating back.
Hermione spun on her heel to look at the seventh year. "Hm?" she questioned.
"You forgot to ask the Matron for your headache potion," he said, fighting to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.
She blushed fiercely at being caught in her fib. "Right," she excused herself, clearing her throat in embarrassment, before fleeing the Infirmary - and Rodolphus Lestrange - as quickly as possible.