I've decided to write another version of Over a Broomstick, with a different setting and a different outcome.

Enjoy.

X

I'm not Happy.

By TimeTraveller-1900.

Harry found Hermione fairly effortlessly; she was in the library. She went there whenever Weasley bothered or harassed her for the fun of it, or whenever they found themselves in a row. Harry often wondered and asked himself how it was even possible for Ron Weasley to be here.

He was the worst student in the school.

He was bone idle.

He was lazy.

He was not driven. He cared more for stupid Quidditch and chess. He had a terrible knowledge of magic. The only logical reason for the redhead to still attend the school would be if Dumbledore was keeping him here, although why that was he had no idea and he really didn't care.

Personally, especially after discovering the magical world a full four years before Hagrid came to that stupid island after Dudley found him opening the Hogwarts letter which came first, Harry felt Dumbledore was playing one of his infantile games.

But he didn't see the point; Harry had avoided most of the people on the Hogwarts express the first time around, and after hearing from Ron on the train why he would want to be Harry Potter's best friend, well he had decided to steer clear of the redhead and his family.

For good.

Since everyone knew they were not friends, with how Ron had been hexed severely for trying to disturb his work and how he found Weasley's habits to be beyond disgusting, Harry did not understand the logic Dumbledore's mind worked with. So unless the old fool had some weird scheme in mind and Weasley was an important cog of it, Harry would just say the old fool needed the Weasleys in general.

But right now he needed to find his best friend, Hermione Granger.

"Hello, Hermione," he greeted her as he found her at a table.

Hermione looked up. The girl had been crying because of the abuse she had suffered the night before. Being shouted at on Christmas Day was not a nice occurrence and it pissed Harry off. Yesterday he had received his Firebolt from an unknown sender, and Hermione had gone behind his back and told McGonagall and taken it away, ignorant of the fact Harry planned on taking it to be examined himself. But while it annoyed him a little she had gone behind his back, at the same time, while he was glad he had Hermione watching his back, she had this habit of going too far, too fast, too quickly.

"Harry," Hermione said, and Harry flinched at how…hollow her voice was. "Why are you here?"

"Looking for you, beautiful," Harry smiled when he saw her blush. "And to see how you are?"

"I'm fine," Hermione swallowed and cleared her throat to shake off the bashfulness she was feeling. "Are you here to have a go at me?"

"No, why would I? Hermione, I'm glad you told McGonagall and Flitwick about the Firebolt. But what you didn't realise was I was going to go to them," Harry pointed out.

Hermione gaped at him. "What?"

"Oh come on, Hermione, you know I'm not one of those people who think the world begins and ends with Quidditch. I'm nothing like Weasley. A broomstick from an anonymous sender? Highly expensive? No note? No sign of who had sent it? A mass murderer out there, apparently gunning for my death and happens to be one of Voldemort's most powerful and dangerous followers who wants me dead? Dementors out there ramming into my darkest memories every time I encounter them? Hermione, I am not stupid. I was going to have it checked out, although to be honest the sight of it merely depressed me," Harry said solemnly.

"Depressed you, why?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked away and sighed, "In my first year, I was excited at becoming a Quidditch player, but as we're approaching the end of the year, I find I never want to see the bloody pitch again as long as I live. But the moment Wood finds out about the bloody thing, he will make sure I can't leave the team."

"Oh, that's right," Hermione nodded, "you tried to resign from the team on the last match."

"Tried being the operative word," Harry snapped, although he had no intention of upsetting or offending Hermione, except what Wood did on that day still fucking pissed him off, "the bastard Wood emotionally blackmailed/guilt tripped me into staying."

"When do you think you can leave?"

"I'm leaving at the end of the year. I will make it public, and I don't care if McGonagall doesn't like it or not," Harry shook his head, "I'm just not happy, Hermione."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. Harry had come to dislike Quidditch since nearly game quickly he had he either fell off the broom, was affected by dementors, or a House Elf smashed a bludger into his arm. After the Dementor attack a few months ago, Harry had decided enough was enough. The Nimbus-2000 he had used for the last two years had been a pride and joy with him, and it had been smashed into kindling by the Whomping Willow.

Harry had seen the pieces of firewood which had once been his broomstick as proof he could have died, that the Willow could have smashed his own body to bits.

And so he had tried to resign. In Hermione's opinion, it was a highly good idea.

Hermione, being afraid of heights, was not a good flyer.

She hated Quidditch. Every single time she watched Harry play, she was scared he would get himself killed. Or worse. The game was insane; not only were three players from both teams racing one another to throw a ball through three hoops, but two others were also bashing two balls which were enchanted to fly really hard, and smash people off of their brooms.

These two balls were enchanted to be extremely fast and since they were like flying cannon balls, so if one of them flew off and then came back, it would have the velocity needed not only to smash a broomstick to bits, but it would effortlessly smash a skeleton to bits as well. But in truth, she knew it had been a long time coming. Harry's liking for Quidditch had dulled into nothingness. Many of the games ended up with him nearly dying, and when Dobby tried to use that bludger, Hermione had been terrified that he would die. She could understand the House Elf's point of view, but he was mega stupid if he thought sending Harry Potter out in a coffin was the best way of saving him (a dark, morbid part of Hermione's mind often wondered what Dobby would have done if the stupid bludger had hit him in the head, but she did not want to explore that possibility).

But she wasn't surprised, especially after she had come to know Harry Potter well enough to get insights into his personality, that he had quickly grown to dislike the game. And she couldn't blame him for wanting to leave.

"How much trouble did Wood give you, you never said?" Hermione asked.

"A lot. Granted it wasn't as bad as it was in my first year, and I never bothered to say anything last year because of that stupid prejudice to parselmouths. But I don't like being guilt-tripped or emotionally blackmailed. This is Wood's last year at Hogwarts and he wants to win that stupid cup, or he'll die trying."

Harry said it so seriously that Hermione could not help but let out a small laugh. But then she quickly stopped, primarily because she remembered Madam Pince could be nearby, and also because she could tell Harry was not joking. "Oh my god, you're serious?"

"Hermione, Oliver Wood is a Quidditch fanatic. I think he would sell his soul or his mother if it meant he could win a match or a string of them," Harry said darkly. "But I also want to get away from the rest of the team."

Hermione frowned, already feeling the disgust she usually felt for Angelina, Alicia, Katie, Fred and George rising inside of her. There was no doubt in her head that the five other Gryffindors believed they had Harry's confidence and saw themselves as friends, but the reality was different from fantasy. Harry couldn't stand the rest of the team. The way they had treated him whenever something went wrong and he was blamed for something he was either ignorant of or completely out of his control disgusted and disturbed both of them.

In the first year when Harry and her and Neville, plus Weasley and Malfoy lost all of those points, the Quidditch team had made life a living hell. They refused to speak to him following the way Weasley had followed him and Hermione to Hagrid's hut, and Malfoy had spied on them with the dragon's egg before McGonagall caught them with Neville coming to tell them Weasley was looking for them. They had been fairly abusive towards him. They had childishly refused to speak to him or address him by name.

In the second year, it was worse. Harry had nearly been attacked more than once by the Weasley twins because of his ability to speak parseltongue. It was only his skills in flying that kept him alive.

So no, she wasn't surprised by his point of view.