Not So Innocent V
by CuteDiva
A/N: Okay, a few things I'd like to clear up. No, I did NOT make a fwooper up. It's one of the magical creatures described in "Fantastic Beasts & Where To Find Them." You know, that book that J.K. wrote for charity? It's a bird with vivid plumage, and its song drives people literally insane. I KNOW it's fictional, I just added it to my story to see if you guys got the joke and actually READ the book. *sigh* And you people consider yourselves HP fans...
Okay, anyways, I hope I don't sound grouchy. I'm sorry I haven't written in a while, I've just been really preoccupied. This chapter REVEALS the new lineup of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And again, congrats to Corrina Flame for knowing who'd be on the team! And, I've been reading books with British lingo, so I'm going to incorporate that in my fics to make them sound more authentic.
After that fateful evening, Ron and Hermione awkwardly attempted to avoid eachother. Hermione had spent the last few days scolding herself for being such a chicken and not telling Ron how she felt about him, and for having these feelings in the first place. So she buried herself in her schoolwork, avoided the common room, and started sitting next to Harry, not Ron, in class. Ron, on the other hand, used a different technique to distract himself.
***
"YOU try out for the QUIDDITCH team? Are you CRAZY?" Fred told Ron one day as they sat near eachother in the Great Hall.
"And why not? Neville's trying out," Ron said pointedly.
"Yeah, we know," George Weasley said. "We're helping him pick out his tombstone."
"I can too make the team!" Ron exclaimed. "What makes you think I can't?"
Ron returned to his dinner, until George whispered, "You'll probably fall off your broom, seeing you'll be so busy thinking about smooching Granger."
Ron practically choked on his mashed potatoes. "Wh-what are you t-talking a-b-bout?"
he stuttered unconvincingly.
"You know!" Fred said, then change the tone of his voice to a high pitched squeak. "Oh, Ron, I have something to tell you..." he said, mimicking Hermione's voice and batting his eyelashes. Then George tapped Ron on the shoulder, making a weird kissy face and then bursting into hysterical laughter.
"You two were EAVESDROPPING on me and Hermione?" Ron said in a loud whisper, horrified.
"Why didn't you kiss her, Ron?" Fred said, lowering his voice and looking a bit more serious than usual.
"Because," Ron said stubbornly. "We're JUST FRIENDS. Besides, we WEREN'T going to kiss! You must have had vision problems or something."
"Whatever," George muttered, then took the opportunity to fling a spoonful of carrot sticks at Colin Creevey.
***
Harry was very nervous before the Quidditch tryouts. He was worried that he might not be able to find replacements for the team, and that wasn't all that was bothering him. He still had to deal with Ron and Hermione's oblivious stupidity, Professor Delacour's class, getting Cho Chang to notice him, plus keeping his ears open for any news of what was going on with the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord.
Needless to say, the tryouts were hell. Neville didn't even make it off the ground when it was his turn, and he ran off the pitch, crying. Ginny Weasley even tried out, but she was so embarrassed of flying for Harry, Fred, and George, she stumbled in the air and fell off her broom, landing in a heap on the ground. She didn't hurt herself, but she was very, very red when she walked off the enchanted field.
Next up was Ron. He was a definite shot. Not just because his best friend and his brothers were the judges, no. Ron was a very good flyer, skillful in the air. Harry could tell he had been practicing on the side. He glided high above everyone, demonstrating his Chaser abilities gracefully. He didn't mess up once, and when he landed, he walked off with a big grin. He was in, no doubt about that.
Seamus was trying out for Keeper. Katie Bell had agreed to throw the Quaffle during tryouts so the Keeper hopefuls could stop it from entering the goal posts. Seamus missed only one, and proved to be a really fast flyer with a sharp eye.
More people tried out. Colin and Dennis Creevey, Lavender Brown (don't ask me what the hell SHE was doing trying to play Quidditch!) among others. The three judges huddled, and chose five semifinalists: Dean, Seamus, Ron, Colin (Hey, the boy could fly. The judges couldn't discriminate!) and Lee Jordan. The next round was dodging Bludgers. Colin was hopeless at the task. Lee stumbled in the air when the Bludgers flew by, proving that he was suited to comment on the game, not play in it. Ron, Dean, and Seamus, and Colin were the only ones who "survived" at Bludger dodging. So, they were in. Ron and Dean and Colin were Chasers, and Seamus was the Keeper.
The new Gryffindor team was alive.
***
Hermione dreaded going back to Professor Delacour's class, but she walked into the large classroom nonetheless. She sat opposite of Harry, and Ron sat on Harry's other side. They were still avoiding eachother.
Fleur entered, and Ron started grinning and straightening his hair. Hermione glared. Harry smiled at her, knowing what was going on. Hermione glared at him, too.
"All right, good morning to you all. 'Ow are all of you?" she asked politely. You could tell the young teacher was trying to make a good impression, to pay her dues for last year.
All the boys drooled. Some of the girls gazed admiringly at Professor Delacour, like she was their idol. Other girls, like Hermione, glared at her with boiling hatred.
"Now, I see you 'ave entered the level of Advanced Defense Against ze Dark Arts. Zis year, you shall be learning about ze basics of ze art of countercurses, identifying ze methods of Dark Arts, advanced spells, and 'ow to conduct ze succesful search of defense methods for several methods of ze Dark Arts.
"Now, first of all, turn your books to Chapter One: Identifying ze Three Methods of ze Dark Arts, Section One: Introduction."
The class obeyed, and they turned to the right page as Fleur began to define the three types of Dark Arts they were to learn to fight.
"Now, zere is three types of Dark Arts: ze Primitive, which is one of ze most dangerous methods, consists of types of voodoo, possession, and the use of the elements. Medieval is a fine-tuned version of ze Primitive Dark Arts, which focuses on using amulets, potions, and ze enchantments. Modern Dark Arts are very complete. It is what you see today. Modern Dark Arts focuses on ze use of wands on potions using Primitive ingredients like blood and poison, ze worship of the dead, ze invocation of spirits and elements, and sometimes ze use of possession, voodoo, in ze rarer cases, and amulets.
"What I want you to do is to take out ze piece of parchment and label it 'Week One,' 'Week Two,' and 'Week Three,'" Professor Delacour instructed. "During ze next three weeks, you shall learn ze methods of fighting Primitive, Medieval, and Modern Dark Arts."
"She's the best teacher we've ever had," Ron sighed.
Hermione glared at him. She glared at Professor Delacour. She mentally glared at herself.
After class, Hermione ran to her dormitory, locked the door, flopped onto her bed, and then frantically stood up in front of the mirror.
Hermione looked into her own eyes, trying to reach into the corners of her mind, trying to deny what her heart was dying to confess.
"This cannot be happening to me!" she screamed. "I do NOT love Ron!"
She looked at herself closely. She shook her head and closed her eyes. "Oh bloody hell. I cannot believe this.... I love Ron."
***
Over the next few weeks, Ron and Harry were off at Quidditch practice all the time, Professor Delacour's lessons became more complicated by the day, and Hermione had barely anyone to talk to. Parvati and Lavender were useless: all they did was giggle and paint their nails, and it would be too hard to talk about this to Ginny, who was Ron's sister.
So one day, on a Hogsmeade trip, Hermione was sitting alone at The Three Broomsticks, sipping on a butterbeer miserably. Then, the person she least wanted to talk to, Fleur Delacour, sat down beside her.
"What is ze matter, Hermione?" Professor Delacour asked. Hermione grimaced.
"Nothing that interests you," Hermione said tartly.
"Well, zat means zere is something ze matter. Why don't you tell me?"
"Because you are the last person that I ever want to talk to!" Hermione stormed off, sick of being surrounded by idiocy and stupid blonde tramps like Fleur. She was sick of being the nerd, of having to bow unto girls like her. She was sick of being passive. This was war.
A/N: Aw, and so, the plot thickens. I'm posting this chapter about a few months after I even started it. Today, I went to see the Harry Potter movie. It was so wicked awesome, the moment I got home I started working on my abandoned fics. Watch out, ff.net. CuteDiva is back with a vengeance.
