A/N: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you ALL for your wonderful reviews! It
warms my heart...absolutely a million times better than winning an Oscar. I
know some of you said that Hermione bringing home a fiancée was a little
predictable but trust me - this is no ordinary fiancée. If you want to find
out why, you'd have to keep reading. Thanks again, guys! I really hope to
read more of your reviews again.
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters, but David Callaway is mine.
CHAPTER 4:
I threw up my hands and let out an exasperated sigh as I surveyed the mess I had made. My clock read 8:45a.m. - fifteen more minutes before Harry was to pick me up for our little excursion back to the wizarding world. And in some weird, warped way, I had absolutely nothing to wear! Never mind the fact that I was about a foot deep in clothes that I had carelessly unpacked the night before and were now strewn haphazardly on my bedroom floor. There I was, standing in my generic gray underthings, contemplating the merits (and consequences) of showing up in Hogsmeade in my knickers.
/Okay,/ I thought, taking a deep breath. /Calm down. Why are you so flustered? You're just going out with Harry, your best friend. There's absolutely no need to impress him./
/I'm not trying to impress him,/ another side of my brain piped up. /Technically, this is my first day back as a witch and nobody's seen me in four years. So, I want them to be totally blown away by the new, revamped Hermione - technically./
/R-ight.../
I held up a navy blue sweater and a matching pleated skirt over my mirror image. Ugh! Too Cambridge.
A red sleeveless top that had a ripped V-neckline which forged a naked valley between my breasts and pair of khaki pants that clings tightly over the buttocks and hangs a little too low on the waist. Too sexy for daytime.
A plain, white shirt, denim capris and white Birkenstocks. Too - well - plain.
"Hermione, honey!" I heard Mum yell from downstairs. "Harry's here! Shall I send him up?"
I gasped and ran for the lock on my doorknob. "No!" I yelled back. "I'll be right down."
/As soon as I decide what to wear./
My eyes roved over the mess and spotted a white, shirred-top, peasant blouse that I had never worn before and immediately pulled it on over the denim capris. Then, I got on my knees and rummaged under my bed for a pair of white wedges to complete the outfit. I tied my hair in a loose ponytail, dabbed on some clear lipgloss and just a coat of mascara. I decided to skip the blush - my cheeks were already high with color (perhaps because I was panicking). I carefully slipped my wand inside a straw tote that David had given me from one of his trips to New York, along with a pair of sunglasses, a small change purse and a tiny red pouch where I keep my Gringotts key. Giving myself a quick look in the mirror, I could see that I didn't look too bad. I just hope I don't look too out of place in the wizarding world. I bounded downstairs and held my breath.
/Damn, he looks good,/ I thought, taking in Harry's appearance as he stood up to greet me. I don't think I noticed how much he's changed physically last night, owing to my befuddled state. But seeing him, now, takes my breath away. He's a little taller than David, my mind registered, and a heck of a lot muscular. I could make out the outline of his biceps and abdomen through the red cotton sweater that he wore over a pair of creased khakis.
I always liked him in red - it brings out the green of his eyes and reminds me of Christmas. He smiled at me slowly, that dreamy, sexy smile that I had fantasized about in my first year at Cambridge - and suddenly had an irresistible urge to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him senseless.
If only the guiltying weight of the silver engagement ring David had given me hadn't hung so heavily on my finger - a gentle reminded that I had already promised someone else that I'd marry them. But the same thought crossed my mind as I swallowed the urge and found the strength to walk the last remaining steps that would bring us face-to-face.
/How did he become so damned sexy? And gorgeous?/ I bit my lower lip to keep myself from fixing the lock of hair that had fallen on his forehead.
Granted that I had followed Harry's Quidditch career from day one by having Crookshanks fetch me copies of "Witch Weekly," "The Daily Prophet," and "Quidditch Quarterly" from Professor Asser's owl, Loni, who flew to Hogsmeade every week. Not only his Quidditch, but his steady string of girlfriends as well. It hurt me at first to find out that my leaving didn't affect him that much, if at all. Then again, I couldn't really expect Harry to pine for me or actually wait for me, even if I had told him that I loved him. He's got the whole world going for him. And besides, Harry's always had this thing for girls with beautiful, long, straight hair that feels like silk when it brushes against the skin. Like those girls you see in shampoo ads. Cho was first, then Diana, then Lavender Brown and several others (I'd forgotten most of them) and most recently, Blaise Zabini. And I'm painfully aware that my hair doesn't have a ghost of a chance at being straight - ever. So I settled with just reading about him in the magazines and ogling him in his posters. I'm a little embarrased to admit that I had once put up a poster of Harry without his Quidditch robes on (his trousers were on, mind you), courtesy of the sex-crazed editors of "Witch Weekly."
It's down now, just in case you were wondering.
"Wow, Hermione," Harry said pleasantly. "You look great."
"Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself," I replied.
Harry raised a brow, a mischievous smile spreading on his lips. "I know, I know. I look good. Comes with the territory of being famous and all."
I gave him a little nudge. "Don't you start getting a swelled head on me or I'll hex you. I still know how to."
He laughed lightly and offered his arm to me. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah," I said, taking his arm.
"What time will I tell David that you'll be back? In case he calls?" Mum asked.
/I really have to talk to Mum about ruining beautiful moments./
"David never calls, Mum. He knows where I am. He'll wait for me to call him." I opened the front door and pulled Harry outside. "Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad. Don't wait up," I called, closing the door behind me.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"Do you think I should get more of the sugar quills?" I asked Harry, casting a backwards glance at the display of delicate pink-and-blue feathers made of spun sugar.
Harry snickered. "I think you've got enough sugar quills to last you a decade."
I made a pout, putting my hands on my hips. "You try going four years without eating any of Honeydukes' sweets."
"I've done pretty well, avoiding sweets, thanks," he countered lightly, carrying my basket effortlessly.
"I'll bet," I murmured, leaning down to peer at Butterbeer candies - a new confection that, once put in the mouth, lasts as long as a mug of Butterbeer and makes the eater feel as if he or she was actually drinking the sweet, addictive beverage. Harry leaned down as well and grabbed a handful for me and placed them inside the basket.
It was almost five p.m. and Harry and I had gone to almost every shop in Hogsmeade. He had been the perfect host. We stopped by Diagon Alley first where we met Hagrid and his wife, the former Madame Maxime. Professor Snape was there as well, no doubt stocking up on potion ingredients as he was still teaching Potions at Hogwarts. We passed Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, each sipping a cherry float. In Hogsmeade, Harry made it a point to steer me towards Weasley's Wizard Wheezes first to see Fred and George and Fred's two-year old twin girls by Angelina, Gwen and Fiona.
"Never knew how much trouble twins could be," Fred had told me, smiling adoringly at his daughters who were playing a game of romp with *Uncle Harry* and *Crazy Uncle George*. "You don't reckon George and I were as naughty as this?"
"No," I replied. "You two were worse." Fred laughed at this and proceeded to pull Fiona (or was it Gwen?) off Harry's back saying, "All right, that's enough. You girls better wash up for lunch or Mummy will have my hide."
George pulled Gwen (or Fiona) off his back and let her run to the back of the shop with her sister. "Angelina's got Fred by the noose," he said, winking.
"You're one to speak," Fred exclaimed defiantly, turning to me. "Alicia has you at her beck and call."
"Am not!" George.
"Are too!" Fred.
"Am not!" George.
"Are too!" Fred.
Harry and I escaped them in the heat of their "Am not - Are too" argument. Let Angelina and Alicia take care of their husbands.
"Actually, Fred and George have turned into hen-pecked husbands and they like it," Harry supplied helpfully as we made our way to the Three Broomsticks. "They just don't want to admit it."
The afternoon at the Three Broomsticks wasn't as good as the sunshiny atmosphere we had just left. Sure, I missed the butterbeer and the pumpkin pie but I was totally unprepared for one unexpected person who showed up while Harry and I were laughing over old Hogwarts memories.
"Well, well, well, the golden girl returns," a familiar oily, obviously- full-of-disdain voice sneered behind my back. "Where'd you run off to, Granger? Couldn't stand being just a shadow to the famous Harry Potter anymore?"
Who else, but our resident villain?
"Malfoy," I said as coldly as I can, turning in my seat to face him. I don't care what the Daily Prophet says about him being one of the most eligible and handsome bachelors in the wizarding world. Draco Malfoy will always be the two-faced, sinister, oily-haired kid I had the displeasure of meeting.
I saw his eyes widen a little as he took in what the new, revamped me. /Yes! Score!/ But Malfoy was Malfoy. He finds ways of ruining everything.
"I can see why you were so intent on looking for her, Potter," he said slowly. I could feel his eyes undressing me and I bristled, crossing my arms across my chest. "Who knew how deliciously sexy you were going to turn out to be?"
I was able to keep my cool but Harry sprang up from his seat and grabbed Malfoy by his collar. "You apologize to her right now, Malfoy!" Harry hissed at him.
"Why should I? What I said was true." Harry tightened his grip. I was afraid he was going to choke him to death.
"Hermione doesn't need slimy gits like you ogling her. You've insulted her one too many times - I'm not going to let you get away with it anymore."
Damage control mode. "Harry, let him go. He's not worth it."
Malfoy managed to smile cruelly through Harry's grip. "Listen to the mudblood, Potter. I don't think you'd want to end up in Azkaban just when she's decided to come home."
"Come on, Harry," I said, gripping the arm that was holding Malfoy. "Let him go. He's not worth it."
Harry looked at me for a moment then released his hold on Malfoy. He (Malfoy) rubbed his neck and coughed a little, the smile never leaving his face. "The problem with you, Potter," he began, looking straight at Harry, then to me. "Is you don't appreciate what you've got. You just let them go without leaving your mark on them. Like Granger, here."
I guess he was re-thinking about using 'Mudblood.'
"She left once and you went upside down trying to find her. And now that she's here again you're going to make the same stupid mistake."
"I don't recall asking you for advice, Malfoy," Harry replied icily.
"You may be famous, Potter, but you sure are stupid." Malfoy gave me a last, long - disturbing - look. "If you find yourself wanting a *real* man, I'm always available." Harry tried to lunge for him but I blocked his way, leaving Malfoy to walk away feeling proud of himself.
The rest of the afternoon went by fairly well. By the time we're at Honeydukes, Harry was back to his old self.
"I've got an idea," he suddenly piped up as he placed the basket on the counter for payment. "How would you like to see where Ron trains? The Puddlemere Training Pitch isn't very far from here and I'm pretty sure Oliver wouldn't mind if you and I went there. Although he'd probably accuse me of being a spy or something."
"Oh, is he Captain now?" I asked, knowning fully well that Oliver Wood managed to elbow his way into being Captain of Puddlemere United since two years ago, according to "Quidditch Quarterly."
But I wasn't about to tell Harry that.
"Yeah. About time, too. Puddlemere needs a big break to get back into the league and I think Oliver just might be the person to lead them there. So, what do you think?"
I pulled out my change purse for a galleon when Harry put his hand on top of mine to stop me.
"I'm paying," he said, placing a shiny gold galleon on the counter.
"Harry..."
"Training pitch?" he asked, changing the subject in rapid-fire fashion like he always did. "Then we could have dinner at our flat. Ron's been learning how to cook. I think Mrs. Weasley finally caught onto us eating out so much."
"If you're sure they wouldn't mind," I answered, getting the bag of sweets from the shopkeeper.
"They wouldn't mind at all," Harry exclaimed happily. "This is great. We can make fun of Ron while he's training. Just like old times."
*Just like old times...*
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"You should've seen Ron when the draft officials for the Quidditch World Cup were here to see Puddlemere play," Harry was saying an hour later as we sat on the bleachers, munching away on the sweets we had just bought.
I was busy chewing the legs off a Chocolate Frog as I listened to him, albeit absently. I was actually staring at his mouth as his tongue slipped between his lips to lick the sugar quill that he had nicked from the Honeydukes bag.
I never realized it but there's something really - sexy - about watching a guy like Harry eat candy. And I never realized that sugar quills could be so amazingly...arousing.
I'll never look at a sugar quill in the same way again.
"Ron thought that he could impress the officials by imitating a Wronski Feint." Harry snorted. "So while he was guarding the goal posts, he suddenly made a go for the Quaffle which was in Gray Stewart's hands. Gray got confused and let go of the Quaffle and Ron had to speed up to get to it before it touched the ground. He did the Wronski Feint, but he also crashed into the dirt. Imagine a Keeper doing a Seeker move." Harry snorted again, placing the quill between his lips.
I stifled a groan and focused my eyes on Ron, who was busy blocking shots from his teammates. "What did the officials say?"
"They said they were a little confused as to what position Ron played but in the end they put him on the team as Reserve Keeper. Oliver's playing first-string Keeper in the World Cup."
"And you're first-string Seeker," I added helpfully.
"Hey, Harry!" Oliver yelled, a few feet above us. "How about a little practice with us? Since you're under the pretense of having a date with Hermione to spy on us, let me be under the pretense of scrimmage so I could spy on your moves." He grinned widely. "Besides, I could really use a challenge for my Seeker. Cho's been getting too nice with the other boys."
"You're bloody lucky I'm friends with most of them," Cho piped up, flying in from behind Oliver. "Or they'd have had your head for throwing the Quaffle in their faces one too many times. Hey, Harry, Hermione. Nice to see you again."
Cho Chang - Harry's first-ever girlfriend. You had no idea how many girls wanted to be her in our fifth year when she actually went out with him to Hogsmeade. There was conflict of course, her being the Ravenclaw Seeker, but I don't think she ever got over Cedric Diggory. She and Harry ended their relationship after the Christmas holidays but they were on very good terms.
Looking at her now, I could only say that Cho gets more beautiful by the year. Her perfect Oriental features are more refined now, more sophisticated than the last time I saw her that she didn't look like she played Quidditch at all. She looked more like a model.
"What makes you think Cho wouldn't be too nice to me?" Harry asked Oliver, reaching for the Nimbus Two Thousand and One that Cho handed to him.
Oliver made a face. "Well, she is your ex and all. I was thinking along the lines of revenge for dumping her."
"Excuse me," Cho said haughtily. "No one dumped anyone. It was all done by mutual agreement." Oliver snorted and Harry laughed.
"Oy! Are we playing Quidditch or what?" Ron yelled from the goal posts.
"Ugh!" Oliver complained. "Tell Ron to lighten up a bit, will you, Harry? The World Cup's a couple of months away but he's acting like it's tomorrow." He looked over his shoulder and yelled back. "We're coming! Don't get your knickers in a twist, Weasley!"
Harry handed me his sugar quill, saying, "Hold this for me till I get back, will you?"
"I don't know," I said slowly, putting the quill between my fingers. "I get awfully hungry."
He feigned shock. "You've got a bag full to bursting with sweets. Don't touch that quill."
"Hmm...maybe," I replied before he flew away to play with the team.
I learned a lesson that afternoon - never hold a sugar quill for too long. It melts, especially on a balmy spring day like this one.
The tip of the feather bent over to my wrist and smeared my skin with sticky pink-and-blue sugar. Never one to waste sweet stuff, I licked the confection off my skin just in time to hear Cho yell, "I got the Snitch!"
"What?" Harry was yelling back. "No fair! I was distracted!"
Cho was doing a victory lap around the Pitch and Harry was right smack in the middle, yelling for a rematch, saying he was distracted. But he was smiling. Cho was finally one-up over him.
"You've got to concentrate in Quidditch, mate. Focus," Blair Morgan, one of Puddlemere's Beaters told him, putting an arm around Harry. "Can't let a beautiful girl take over your brain."
I blushed profusely as Blair pointed to me and Harry jabbed him lightly in the ribs with a smile.
"Women will be the death of us, mate!" Blair called over his shoulder, as he flew away to join Cho in her victory lap. Harry flew back to where I was sitting and landed his broom.
"Here," I said, handing the sugar quill back to him. He took it with a slightly weird look on his face, but ate it all. I licked my finger clean of the sugar before Ron made his way to us.
"I think you should come to more games, Hermione. Especially when we're playing the Cannons," Ron said teasingly, looking at Harry then to me. "So, dinner? Let's go. I'm starving."
I got up and brushed the seat of my pants, then casted a wave to Oliver and Cho who waved back. "You're always hungry, Ron. Glad to see you haven't changed."
/Unlike some people,/ I thought shadily, glancing at Harry and his suddenly peculiar behaviour.
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters, but David Callaway is mine.
CHAPTER 4:
I threw up my hands and let out an exasperated sigh as I surveyed the mess I had made. My clock read 8:45a.m. - fifteen more minutes before Harry was to pick me up for our little excursion back to the wizarding world. And in some weird, warped way, I had absolutely nothing to wear! Never mind the fact that I was about a foot deep in clothes that I had carelessly unpacked the night before and were now strewn haphazardly on my bedroom floor. There I was, standing in my generic gray underthings, contemplating the merits (and consequences) of showing up in Hogsmeade in my knickers.
/Okay,/ I thought, taking a deep breath. /Calm down. Why are you so flustered? You're just going out with Harry, your best friend. There's absolutely no need to impress him./
/I'm not trying to impress him,/ another side of my brain piped up. /Technically, this is my first day back as a witch and nobody's seen me in four years. So, I want them to be totally blown away by the new, revamped Hermione - technically./
/R-ight.../
I held up a navy blue sweater and a matching pleated skirt over my mirror image. Ugh! Too Cambridge.
A red sleeveless top that had a ripped V-neckline which forged a naked valley between my breasts and pair of khaki pants that clings tightly over the buttocks and hangs a little too low on the waist. Too sexy for daytime.
A plain, white shirt, denim capris and white Birkenstocks. Too - well - plain.
"Hermione, honey!" I heard Mum yell from downstairs. "Harry's here! Shall I send him up?"
I gasped and ran for the lock on my doorknob. "No!" I yelled back. "I'll be right down."
/As soon as I decide what to wear./
My eyes roved over the mess and spotted a white, shirred-top, peasant blouse that I had never worn before and immediately pulled it on over the denim capris. Then, I got on my knees and rummaged under my bed for a pair of white wedges to complete the outfit. I tied my hair in a loose ponytail, dabbed on some clear lipgloss and just a coat of mascara. I decided to skip the blush - my cheeks were already high with color (perhaps because I was panicking). I carefully slipped my wand inside a straw tote that David had given me from one of his trips to New York, along with a pair of sunglasses, a small change purse and a tiny red pouch where I keep my Gringotts key. Giving myself a quick look in the mirror, I could see that I didn't look too bad. I just hope I don't look too out of place in the wizarding world. I bounded downstairs and held my breath.
/Damn, he looks good,/ I thought, taking in Harry's appearance as he stood up to greet me. I don't think I noticed how much he's changed physically last night, owing to my befuddled state. But seeing him, now, takes my breath away. He's a little taller than David, my mind registered, and a heck of a lot muscular. I could make out the outline of his biceps and abdomen through the red cotton sweater that he wore over a pair of creased khakis.
I always liked him in red - it brings out the green of his eyes and reminds me of Christmas. He smiled at me slowly, that dreamy, sexy smile that I had fantasized about in my first year at Cambridge - and suddenly had an irresistible urge to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him senseless.
If only the guiltying weight of the silver engagement ring David had given me hadn't hung so heavily on my finger - a gentle reminded that I had already promised someone else that I'd marry them. But the same thought crossed my mind as I swallowed the urge and found the strength to walk the last remaining steps that would bring us face-to-face.
/How did he become so damned sexy? And gorgeous?/ I bit my lower lip to keep myself from fixing the lock of hair that had fallen on his forehead.
Granted that I had followed Harry's Quidditch career from day one by having Crookshanks fetch me copies of "Witch Weekly," "The Daily Prophet," and "Quidditch Quarterly" from Professor Asser's owl, Loni, who flew to Hogsmeade every week. Not only his Quidditch, but his steady string of girlfriends as well. It hurt me at first to find out that my leaving didn't affect him that much, if at all. Then again, I couldn't really expect Harry to pine for me or actually wait for me, even if I had told him that I loved him. He's got the whole world going for him. And besides, Harry's always had this thing for girls with beautiful, long, straight hair that feels like silk when it brushes against the skin. Like those girls you see in shampoo ads. Cho was first, then Diana, then Lavender Brown and several others (I'd forgotten most of them) and most recently, Blaise Zabini. And I'm painfully aware that my hair doesn't have a ghost of a chance at being straight - ever. So I settled with just reading about him in the magazines and ogling him in his posters. I'm a little embarrased to admit that I had once put up a poster of Harry without his Quidditch robes on (his trousers were on, mind you), courtesy of the sex-crazed editors of "Witch Weekly."
It's down now, just in case you were wondering.
"Wow, Hermione," Harry said pleasantly. "You look great."
"Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself," I replied.
Harry raised a brow, a mischievous smile spreading on his lips. "I know, I know. I look good. Comes with the territory of being famous and all."
I gave him a little nudge. "Don't you start getting a swelled head on me or I'll hex you. I still know how to."
He laughed lightly and offered his arm to me. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah," I said, taking his arm.
"What time will I tell David that you'll be back? In case he calls?" Mum asked.
/I really have to talk to Mum about ruining beautiful moments./
"David never calls, Mum. He knows where I am. He'll wait for me to call him." I opened the front door and pulled Harry outside. "Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad. Don't wait up," I called, closing the door behind me.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"Do you think I should get more of the sugar quills?" I asked Harry, casting a backwards glance at the display of delicate pink-and-blue feathers made of spun sugar.
Harry snickered. "I think you've got enough sugar quills to last you a decade."
I made a pout, putting my hands on my hips. "You try going four years without eating any of Honeydukes' sweets."
"I've done pretty well, avoiding sweets, thanks," he countered lightly, carrying my basket effortlessly.
"I'll bet," I murmured, leaning down to peer at Butterbeer candies - a new confection that, once put in the mouth, lasts as long as a mug of Butterbeer and makes the eater feel as if he or she was actually drinking the sweet, addictive beverage. Harry leaned down as well and grabbed a handful for me and placed them inside the basket.
It was almost five p.m. and Harry and I had gone to almost every shop in Hogsmeade. He had been the perfect host. We stopped by Diagon Alley first where we met Hagrid and his wife, the former Madame Maxime. Professor Snape was there as well, no doubt stocking up on potion ingredients as he was still teaching Potions at Hogwarts. We passed Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, each sipping a cherry float. In Hogsmeade, Harry made it a point to steer me towards Weasley's Wizard Wheezes first to see Fred and George and Fred's two-year old twin girls by Angelina, Gwen and Fiona.
"Never knew how much trouble twins could be," Fred had told me, smiling adoringly at his daughters who were playing a game of romp with *Uncle Harry* and *Crazy Uncle George*. "You don't reckon George and I were as naughty as this?"
"No," I replied. "You two were worse." Fred laughed at this and proceeded to pull Fiona (or was it Gwen?) off Harry's back saying, "All right, that's enough. You girls better wash up for lunch or Mummy will have my hide."
George pulled Gwen (or Fiona) off his back and let her run to the back of the shop with her sister. "Angelina's got Fred by the noose," he said, winking.
"You're one to speak," Fred exclaimed defiantly, turning to me. "Alicia has you at her beck and call."
"Am not!" George.
"Are too!" Fred.
"Am not!" George.
"Are too!" Fred.
Harry and I escaped them in the heat of their "Am not - Are too" argument. Let Angelina and Alicia take care of their husbands.
"Actually, Fred and George have turned into hen-pecked husbands and they like it," Harry supplied helpfully as we made our way to the Three Broomsticks. "They just don't want to admit it."
The afternoon at the Three Broomsticks wasn't as good as the sunshiny atmosphere we had just left. Sure, I missed the butterbeer and the pumpkin pie but I was totally unprepared for one unexpected person who showed up while Harry and I were laughing over old Hogwarts memories.
"Well, well, well, the golden girl returns," a familiar oily, obviously- full-of-disdain voice sneered behind my back. "Where'd you run off to, Granger? Couldn't stand being just a shadow to the famous Harry Potter anymore?"
Who else, but our resident villain?
"Malfoy," I said as coldly as I can, turning in my seat to face him. I don't care what the Daily Prophet says about him being one of the most eligible and handsome bachelors in the wizarding world. Draco Malfoy will always be the two-faced, sinister, oily-haired kid I had the displeasure of meeting.
I saw his eyes widen a little as he took in what the new, revamped me. /Yes! Score!/ But Malfoy was Malfoy. He finds ways of ruining everything.
"I can see why you were so intent on looking for her, Potter," he said slowly. I could feel his eyes undressing me and I bristled, crossing my arms across my chest. "Who knew how deliciously sexy you were going to turn out to be?"
I was able to keep my cool but Harry sprang up from his seat and grabbed Malfoy by his collar. "You apologize to her right now, Malfoy!" Harry hissed at him.
"Why should I? What I said was true." Harry tightened his grip. I was afraid he was going to choke him to death.
"Hermione doesn't need slimy gits like you ogling her. You've insulted her one too many times - I'm not going to let you get away with it anymore."
Damage control mode. "Harry, let him go. He's not worth it."
Malfoy managed to smile cruelly through Harry's grip. "Listen to the mudblood, Potter. I don't think you'd want to end up in Azkaban just when she's decided to come home."
"Come on, Harry," I said, gripping the arm that was holding Malfoy. "Let him go. He's not worth it."
Harry looked at me for a moment then released his hold on Malfoy. He (Malfoy) rubbed his neck and coughed a little, the smile never leaving his face. "The problem with you, Potter," he began, looking straight at Harry, then to me. "Is you don't appreciate what you've got. You just let them go without leaving your mark on them. Like Granger, here."
I guess he was re-thinking about using 'Mudblood.'
"She left once and you went upside down trying to find her. And now that she's here again you're going to make the same stupid mistake."
"I don't recall asking you for advice, Malfoy," Harry replied icily.
"You may be famous, Potter, but you sure are stupid." Malfoy gave me a last, long - disturbing - look. "If you find yourself wanting a *real* man, I'm always available." Harry tried to lunge for him but I blocked his way, leaving Malfoy to walk away feeling proud of himself.
The rest of the afternoon went by fairly well. By the time we're at Honeydukes, Harry was back to his old self.
"I've got an idea," he suddenly piped up as he placed the basket on the counter for payment. "How would you like to see where Ron trains? The Puddlemere Training Pitch isn't very far from here and I'm pretty sure Oliver wouldn't mind if you and I went there. Although he'd probably accuse me of being a spy or something."
"Oh, is he Captain now?" I asked, knowning fully well that Oliver Wood managed to elbow his way into being Captain of Puddlemere United since two years ago, according to "Quidditch Quarterly."
But I wasn't about to tell Harry that.
"Yeah. About time, too. Puddlemere needs a big break to get back into the league and I think Oliver just might be the person to lead them there. So, what do you think?"
I pulled out my change purse for a galleon when Harry put his hand on top of mine to stop me.
"I'm paying," he said, placing a shiny gold galleon on the counter.
"Harry..."
"Training pitch?" he asked, changing the subject in rapid-fire fashion like he always did. "Then we could have dinner at our flat. Ron's been learning how to cook. I think Mrs. Weasley finally caught onto us eating out so much."
"If you're sure they wouldn't mind," I answered, getting the bag of sweets from the shopkeeper.
"They wouldn't mind at all," Harry exclaimed happily. "This is great. We can make fun of Ron while he's training. Just like old times."
*Just like old times...*
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
"You should've seen Ron when the draft officials for the Quidditch World Cup were here to see Puddlemere play," Harry was saying an hour later as we sat on the bleachers, munching away on the sweets we had just bought.
I was busy chewing the legs off a Chocolate Frog as I listened to him, albeit absently. I was actually staring at his mouth as his tongue slipped between his lips to lick the sugar quill that he had nicked from the Honeydukes bag.
I never realized it but there's something really - sexy - about watching a guy like Harry eat candy. And I never realized that sugar quills could be so amazingly...arousing.
I'll never look at a sugar quill in the same way again.
"Ron thought that he could impress the officials by imitating a Wronski Feint." Harry snorted. "So while he was guarding the goal posts, he suddenly made a go for the Quaffle which was in Gray Stewart's hands. Gray got confused and let go of the Quaffle and Ron had to speed up to get to it before it touched the ground. He did the Wronski Feint, but he also crashed into the dirt. Imagine a Keeper doing a Seeker move." Harry snorted again, placing the quill between his lips.
I stifled a groan and focused my eyes on Ron, who was busy blocking shots from his teammates. "What did the officials say?"
"They said they were a little confused as to what position Ron played but in the end they put him on the team as Reserve Keeper. Oliver's playing first-string Keeper in the World Cup."
"And you're first-string Seeker," I added helpfully.
"Hey, Harry!" Oliver yelled, a few feet above us. "How about a little practice with us? Since you're under the pretense of having a date with Hermione to spy on us, let me be under the pretense of scrimmage so I could spy on your moves." He grinned widely. "Besides, I could really use a challenge for my Seeker. Cho's been getting too nice with the other boys."
"You're bloody lucky I'm friends with most of them," Cho piped up, flying in from behind Oliver. "Or they'd have had your head for throwing the Quaffle in their faces one too many times. Hey, Harry, Hermione. Nice to see you again."
Cho Chang - Harry's first-ever girlfriend. You had no idea how many girls wanted to be her in our fifth year when she actually went out with him to Hogsmeade. There was conflict of course, her being the Ravenclaw Seeker, but I don't think she ever got over Cedric Diggory. She and Harry ended their relationship after the Christmas holidays but they were on very good terms.
Looking at her now, I could only say that Cho gets more beautiful by the year. Her perfect Oriental features are more refined now, more sophisticated than the last time I saw her that she didn't look like she played Quidditch at all. She looked more like a model.
"What makes you think Cho wouldn't be too nice to me?" Harry asked Oliver, reaching for the Nimbus Two Thousand and One that Cho handed to him.
Oliver made a face. "Well, she is your ex and all. I was thinking along the lines of revenge for dumping her."
"Excuse me," Cho said haughtily. "No one dumped anyone. It was all done by mutual agreement." Oliver snorted and Harry laughed.
"Oy! Are we playing Quidditch or what?" Ron yelled from the goal posts.
"Ugh!" Oliver complained. "Tell Ron to lighten up a bit, will you, Harry? The World Cup's a couple of months away but he's acting like it's tomorrow." He looked over his shoulder and yelled back. "We're coming! Don't get your knickers in a twist, Weasley!"
Harry handed me his sugar quill, saying, "Hold this for me till I get back, will you?"
"I don't know," I said slowly, putting the quill between my fingers. "I get awfully hungry."
He feigned shock. "You've got a bag full to bursting with sweets. Don't touch that quill."
"Hmm...maybe," I replied before he flew away to play with the team.
I learned a lesson that afternoon - never hold a sugar quill for too long. It melts, especially on a balmy spring day like this one.
The tip of the feather bent over to my wrist and smeared my skin with sticky pink-and-blue sugar. Never one to waste sweet stuff, I licked the confection off my skin just in time to hear Cho yell, "I got the Snitch!"
"What?" Harry was yelling back. "No fair! I was distracted!"
Cho was doing a victory lap around the Pitch and Harry was right smack in the middle, yelling for a rematch, saying he was distracted. But he was smiling. Cho was finally one-up over him.
"You've got to concentrate in Quidditch, mate. Focus," Blair Morgan, one of Puddlemere's Beaters told him, putting an arm around Harry. "Can't let a beautiful girl take over your brain."
I blushed profusely as Blair pointed to me and Harry jabbed him lightly in the ribs with a smile.
"Women will be the death of us, mate!" Blair called over his shoulder, as he flew away to join Cho in her victory lap. Harry flew back to where I was sitting and landed his broom.
"Here," I said, handing the sugar quill back to him. He took it with a slightly weird look on his face, but ate it all. I licked my finger clean of the sugar before Ron made his way to us.
"I think you should come to more games, Hermione. Especially when we're playing the Cannons," Ron said teasingly, looking at Harry then to me. "So, dinner? Let's go. I'm starving."
I got up and brushed the seat of my pants, then casted a wave to Oliver and Cho who waved back. "You're always hungry, Ron. Glad to see you haven't changed."
/Unlike some people,/ I thought shadily, glancing at Harry and his suddenly peculiar behaviour.