Chapter 11 ~ Quidditch & Confusion
"What about all of the things that you said?
What about all of the promises that you made?
What about all of the nights that you gave?
What about all of the things you told me?"
- "What About Us" by Brandy
Hermione gathered her books at the empty table, tears threatening to stream down her face. She had just made a life-altering move, and suddenly, it was all taken down from underneath her, without her knowing it. Her heart began to pound.
She wanted to go and find Oliver, wherever he went, but Care of Magical Creatures was waiting for her as the warning bell rang throughout the halls. She walked towards the entrance hall, and looked at her timetable once again to see what she had afterwards. After Care of Magical Creatures was lunch, and then afterwards…Broomstick Practice. Hermione's heart pounded again. She'd be able to tell the news to Oliver…they weren't caught, she had cast a spell on Neville making him forget the kissing dilemma (was it a dilemma? Hermione wasn't too sure).
She walked onto the grounds across to Hagrid's hut. Harry and Ron soon caught up with her, greeting her and laughing about Divination, but Hermione was only half-listening. She had better things on her mind than to learn about when Neville cast the spell and hit a teacup which ricocheted and hit him in the chin. She did listen to the part when Harry explained another one of Professor Trewlaney's predictions (about Harry's death, of course). She even laughed when Ron spoke up during class.
"You know what's amazing, Professor Trewlaney?"
"What Ron?" Professor Trewlaney replied, her misty voice filled with anxiousness.
"It's amazing," Ron continued, "That you've predicted Harry's death, what is it, 9 times in a row now? I'm not too sure; I've lost count. But it's even more amazing that during those 9 thousand, or whatever, times that you've predicted it, Harry hasn't died once! He must be a metal man or something, don't you think? A miracle man – no wonder Voldemort couldn't touch you, Harry, eh?"
Hermione was astonished however, at Professor Trewlaney's reply, which was, "We'll see about that."
Care of Magical Creatures wasn't all too exciting. They learned about Diricawl, a plump-bodied, fluffy-feathered, flightless bird. Harry was amused for it could vanish up in a puff of feathers and reappear elsewhere such as a phoenix (Harry absolutely adored Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix). They spent the rest of the class attempting to catch the Diricawl, which was amazingly fast; Hermione only did it half-heartedly, and tried to make an attempt at talking to Hagrid first, and then, after lunch, talking to Oliver.
"So, Hermione – how yeh doin'?" Hagrid asked, chuckling as Neville smashed into a tree when the Diricawl disappeared.
"Not too well, Hagrid," Hermione admitted, petting the Diricawl which landed on her shoulder before it vanished again.
"If it's abou' yeh're classes, I'm sure yeh'll do fine, Hermione," Hagrid assured her. "Yeh always do great, don't yeh?"
Hermione sighed. Hagrid was trying to cheer her up, and it did a bit; but he didn't really understand her feelings. Hermione understood, though; nobody could read minds, not even Professor Trewlaney (although she made it seem like she could). "Thanks, Hagrid."
A bell sounded throughout the grounds about 40 minutes later. Hermione, Harry, and Ron gathered up their things and headed inside again for lunch. Hermione hoped that Oliver would make an appearance at lunch, but unfortunately, his seat was empty during the meal.
"What's the matter, Hermione?" Ron asked as he munched on some chips (or fries). "You're not touching anything or eating."
"Yeah, cat got your tongue?" Harry joked, poking Hermione in the elbow.
"Cat got your tongue?" Ron questioned, an incredibly puzzled look on his face. "How can a cat get your tongue? I mean, I thought you might say, Peeves got your conk, 'cause that's what he used to do, right? He'd zoom around and say, "GOT YOUR CONK" and all that, but cat got your tongue? How can Crookshanks, or any cat for that matter, get your tongue?"
"IT'S A FIGURE OF SPEECH, RON!" Harry and Hermione yelled together. Ron looked at them both, shocked.
"A figure of speech?" Ron questioned again. "How can it be a figure…of speech? I'm absolutely, bloody confused."
Harry and Hermione glared at him evilly; the thought of killing him was tempting. Ron gulped, "I'll think I'll shut up now," and didn't say a word for the remainder of the meal.
At the end of lunch (which Hermione had been anxiously awaiting since Care of Magical Creatures), Hermione gathered up her things again and headed onto the grounds, this time getting a good look at the surroundings, since she loved looking at fall in November.
The leaves on the trees were crisp with golden brown, bronze, deep yellow, crimson, and sunny oranges – many trees were becoming very bare, but others looked marvelous with thousands of colourful leaves on it. On the way to the Quidditch stands, Harry and Ron found it amusing to gather up all the leaves and jump onto it. By the end of their fun, Harry had several leaves in his hair and Ron complained that he had some leaves down his trousers.
By the time they had finally reached the Quidditch stands, the rest of the class had already assembled.
"Nobody's here," Lavender informed them, looking around eagerly. She glanced at Ron and winked at him; Ron returned the wink and began to turn a deep red, almost as dark as some of the leaves.
Finally, after 10 minutes of anxious waiting, Oliver appeared, looking very worried and depressed. He managed a small smile, and asked everyone to pick out their broomsticks before asking Hermione to talk with him.
Harry and Ron looked puzzled, but Hermione told them it would be all right, so they nodded and let her go.
"What happened?" Oliver asked, running his fingers through his hair nervously.
"It's all right," she confirmed. "I caught up with Neville, erased that total memory of us…well, yeah."
"Look, Hermione," Oliver began. "I really, really, really, really…REALLY like you, but since I'm a professor and you're a student…"
Hermione hung her head low, careful not to let her emotions show. "I understand…"
"No, it's not that," Oliver insisted. "Let me continue! I really, really, really, really, really…REALLY, REALLY like you, but since I'm a professor and you're a student, we'll have to either keep it a secret or keep it on hold, since I'm sure if anyone finds out we'll both get sacked…well, I will, anyway. And since we're both leaving in a year, then I guess…well, it depends…since if you're going to go off to college…"
"Let's not think about that," Hermione told him. "We still got the whole summer before I decide to go anywhere. And besides, we're still fairly young. We don't know what may be coming our way, you understand? But thanks, Oliver…thanks…"
"OY! What are you two talking about?" Ron called. He held his broomstick high above his head and shouted, "We got a class to start! Stop conversing and start flying!"
Oliver and Hermione chuckled and made their way over.
"All right," Oliver began, looking at Hermione and smiling. "We're going to learn about Beaters today."
"FINALLY!" Ron cried exasperatedly.
"Yes, Weasley – it's your turn to show us your incredible skills," Oliver agreed.
"What skills?" Malfoy interrupted. He had just come into the Quidditch pitch, along with Crabbe and Goyle. Ron turned a very light shade of pink.
"He has an amazing amount of skill, Mr Malfoy," Oliver said angrily. "And you have an amazing amount of skill too, Mr Malfoy. I think you're biggest skill, if you would like to call it a skill, is your attitude problem."
All of the Gryffindors laughed, but Oliver continued without the slightest amount of amusement in his voice, "Why bother showing up for class if you can't even bother to show up on time Mr Malfoy?"
Draco opened his mouth to say something, but Oliver continued, "20 points from Slytherin – and I think you owe an apology to Ron. And if any inappropriate word pops out of that mouth, I will be adding another weeks detention to the ones you already have."
Malfoy stood, stunned. He opened his mouth and closed it again; he didn't know what to say. Finally, he spoke, "Sorry…Weasley."
"That's more like it," Oliver said. "Now, let's get started."
Ron showed a superb way of blocking bludgers and which direction to send them flying. They spent the rest of the class avoiding flying goblets and plates, that disappeared once you hit them far away and reappeared, without a crack or smashing done to it.
After an amazing class, an amazing week followed. Although Hermione constantly thought about Oliver (and that made her worried because she thought her marks would suffer), the reverse happened; she thought that if she finished the work that was assigned and answered the questions given to her, she's be able to spend the remaining time with Oliver – and it worked! Wednesday night arrived, and Oliver and Hermione spent some time protecting the castle and watching on guard, and the other time talking, doing homework…and other things. No one appeared all night as Hermione watched the Marauder's Map…she figured maybe they had given up.
After Wednesday, the rest of the week was superb. Nobody thought it at all suspicious that Oliver had now begun to sit at the Gryffindor table during meals. Most of the Gryffindors girls loved it, because it was Oliver Wood; the guys thought it was superb because then they could ask all about Quidditch life on a team; and Oliver did it so he could sit closer to Hermione while answer some questions all the while.
Finally, Friday had arrived; it was the day before the second Quidditch match of the season (the first was Slytherin against Ravenclaw – Slytherin won, but Ravenclaw still had a match against Gryffindor to see who would be at the championship game, unless Hufflepuff won).
Harry had called up a match just a few hours before midnight, since Hufflepuff stole the slot for an earlier time. He stood among his team; Oliver and Hermione were watching the practice, seeing as they had nothing better to do anyway.
"All right men," Harry began.
"And WOMEN!" Lavender spoke up.
"And women," Harry repeated. "This is the first match of the season…and we can't afford to lose!"
"AMEN!" Ron said. "Let's start practice!"
The team left the locker room, all dressed in the robes. Harry stood there, looking around the empty locker room, stunned. "…I wasn't finished!" he cried exasperatedly.
Hermione and Oliver sat down in their seats, but Oliver stood up for a moment, and cleared his throat very loudly. The team looked at him eagerly, wondering what he was going to say.
"I just have some words of encouragement for this practice and for tomorrow's game," he declared.
"All right then!" Lavender called, mounting her broom and winking her eyes. "Let's hear it!"
"OKAY!" he shouted back, clearing his throat again. He wiggled his hips and said, "I love it when you call me big papa!"
The whole team gave him a puzzled look as Oliver turned a bright shade of red. He shrugged sheepishly while saying, "Sorry…it's from a Muggle movie called 'Hardball'!"
The whole team laughed, including Hermione. Ron flew up in the air and shouted, "I love it when you call me big papa!" And the whole team repeated it as they practiced for the game.
Hermione and Oliver observed but eventually agreed that it was boring and made their way to the exit, when Oliver suddenly grabbed her by the arm.
"Yikes!" she cried, as he pulled her to the side, hidden from view.
He looked at her and smiled. "Quidditch IS my passion, but it's boring to not be participating," Oliver told her.
Hermione nodded, gazing into his eyes without a care.
"Do you want to find a less boring and more comfortable spot?" he asked suggestively, holding her hand kindly.
She nodded and he led her back inside the Hogwarts castle. He looked and her and was overwhelmed with happy emotions. Hermione noticed and smiled, but a big lump was stuck in her throat, and she couldn't manage to swallow it.
"What does he want to do?" Hermione thought. "I don't want to…well…I don't want this to go by too quickly…I don't want to be treated like I was in the summertime …ANYTHING but that…but, what does he plan to do?"
They past the second floor, the third floor, and Hermione's hand was still clasped in Oliver's…She was actually wishing that he would let her go her way to the Gryffindor Tower, but they continued…It wasn't that she didn't LOVE him, for she did, so much…She just didn't want it to go by so quickly, since there was so much to learn about each other…
He led her up all the way to the 9th floor, where Oliver's office was…she gulped again, but sighed and headed on in…
His office was cleaned respectively and loads of medals lined against the walls that weren't there before (Hermione figured that he decided to put them somewhere else before).
He asked her to sit down. "Hermione…"
She gulped and sighed some more, but the rest of the question stunned her.
"…would you like some tea?"
She smiled, and feeling like she hadn't done it for days, began to grin. "Sure!" she replied, putting her hair behind her ears nervously, not knowing what to say or when to say it.
"Are you all right?" Oliver asked, setting the tea down on the table. "You seem…jumpy."
Hermione shook her head, although in her mind she knew he was right. She took the cup of tea which began to splash all over because her hands were shaking. "I'm…I'm fine," she insisted.
"Of course you are," Oliver replied sarcastically. He sat down beside her and gazed at her, with his enormous brown eyes. "Tell me – what's up, Hermione?"
"To be honest…" Hermione began. "…I thought you brought me up here for something."
"I did!" he exclaimed, sipping some more tea. "To talk."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Really, then? Let's talk."
"Um…"
They began in silence – Oliver then struck up a question about school, and they talked for hours and hours. No one came looking for them since it Harry and Ron were still at practice, and they were grateful. Finally, around 11:30 pm, they began to hold hands and sat in silence, just gazing into each other's eyes.
Suddenly, they heard an odd thumping. Hermione jumped up, startled; she didn't want to be caught yet again with a teacher.
"Is it the door?" she asked, glancing with whimpering eyes at the shut door.
"I'll check," Oliver told her. He walked over to the door, practically tip- toeing. He turned the knob and opened the door a smidge; no one was there. "Nope…"
"Maybe it's an owl," she guessed, looking out the window. Nothing was there.
"Maybe…" he agreed, as he sat down again with Hermione.
Suddenly, as Oliver stood up to get more tea, a head popped out from the cushion.
"PEEVES!" Hermione gasped.
"Hello, ickle seventh year," he cackled, swinging through the air in Oliver's office. "Well, you're not so ickle anymore, are ya?" He flew over to Hermione, grabbed her hair, and pulled it very roughly. Hermione shrieked.
"Ah…an ickle seventh year and…a professor!" he observed, glancing at Oliver, who had smashed all of the cups on the ground at Peeves' appearance. "Ooh…ickle seventh year…professor!" He cackled again. "I should tell Professor Dumbledore…that I should…ickle seventh years shouldn't be talking with professors…especially in OFFICES…"
"Hermione's a Head Girl and I'm a professor," Oliver told him. "Anything else besides that matter would be preposterous." He caught Hermione's eyes and winked. Thankfully, Peeves didn't notice, but continued to smile.
"So sorry, Professor Wood," he apologized, although he sounded slightly sarcastic. "I will never disturb you…PROFESSIONALS…again." He laughed slightly and flew through the ceiling.
Oliver rolled his eyes and sat down again. "Don't take that offensively…that 'preposterous' thing, I mean-"
"I understand," Hermione interrupted. "It's cover-up. I want to keep this hushed up too you know. If it gets out – a disaster could happen. The professors would be angry, the girls would be angry…"
Oliver laughed. "Well, I don't want you to think I'm brushing you off or…'dissing' you or anything, but tomorrow's the second Quidditch Match and I've got to referee…"
"I understand," Hermione repeated. "You've got to get you sleep."
Oliver leaned in and kissed her softly. "That's why I love you. You always seem to know what I'm going to say."
Hermione shrugged sheepishly. "I guess."
"Do you want me to escort you to the Gryffindor Tower – so you won't get in trouble?" Oliver suggested, standing up.
"No," Hermione rejected. "I'd rather go by myself. Not that I'm brushing you off or…'dissing' you or anything, but…"
"It's cover-up – if we're seen together too much people might get suspicious," Oliver finished. Hermione nodded in agreement.
"Good night," he said, kissing her on the cheek.
"Good night," she repeated, closing the door behind her.
Hermione sighed breathlessly as she began to walk to the Gryffindor Tower. She noticed many portraits on the wall that she didn't notice before; she hadn't been to that floor many times until Oliver's office had been built there. Some portraits contained bunny rabbits that were hopping around merrily; young wizards and witches on a boat; a princess witch who was curtseying to Hermione and many others caressed the wall.
She eventually reached the Fat Lady portrait without running into anyone. She gave the password ("Peppermint Crème") and headed inside the Gryffindor common room.
The Gryffindor Quidditch team lay on the couches, exhausted. All of their robes were smothered in mud, grass stains, and in Ron's case…blood.
"What happened Ron?" Hermione asked anxiously, sitting down beside him.
"I was…I was…" he began. But he couldn't continue to speak, since more blood came flowing out of his mouth. Hermione grimaced and turned her head to Harry, as a sign of him to continue.
"Bludger…" he said. Hermione nodded and turned back to Ron.
"Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey's," she suggested, helping Ron up. Ron agreed and headed out of the room, escorted by Lavender, who was holding him up.
"Our Quidditch robes are ruined!" Colin Creevey cried, looking upon his barely recognizable Quidditch robe. "We'll never get them clean for tomorrow's game!"
"Never underestimate the power of magic," Hermione told the team. She taught them an "easy" spell ("Roofus, weleness yewans terramos") that got rid of all of the stains on their robes; they practically looked brand-new.
Dean Thomas looked like he could kiss her; Harry did, on the cheek. "Thanks Hermione! Laundry problems solved!" he declared, the whole team roaring with him.
Ron appeared 15 minutes later with Lavender. His mouth was no longer bloody and he smiled, but he frowned slightly as he noticed the teams' robes all spick-and-span he looked upon his, which were so dirty that they had turned brown.
"Roofus, weleness yewans terramos!" the whole team cried together, pointing their wands directly at Ron and Lavender. Ron and Lavender were thrown up into the air and spun around into a tornado, but once it stopped, it looked as though they had just taken a shower and washed their clothes 4 times in a row.
Eventually, around one in the morning, the team decided to go bed. "Wait," Harry said drowsily. "I have some words of encouragement for tomorrow's game."
The team and Hermione stood in silence awaiting his answer.
"I LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL ME BIG PAPA!" Harry roared through a fistful of laughter. The whole team erupted with cheers, roars, and laughter until Professor McGonagull appeared in her teal nightgown, her hair in rollers, scolding them for being so loud.
Hermione rested her head on her pillows 15 minutes later. She sure tomorrow was going to be an excellent day, and drifted into a peaceful sleep….
which was interrupted abruptly by a struck of lightning and rolling thunder. She stood up in her bed, and scooped Crookshanks up into her arms, who was sleeping beside her earlier.
"So much for an EXCELLENT day," she muttered, looking out the window to the grounds below.
It looked more like a hurricane than a storm. The wind was howling as it blew the lovely leaves off the trees; the rain was pouring down and looked as though it was hail; the thunder echoed throughout the castle as it rumbled; and the lightning made the scene looked horrifying. The most horrifying sight was the sight of the Forbidden Forest. It looked absolutely terrifying. Hermione shivered.
She placed Crookshanks on the ground, who purred softly. She glanced at her clock that rested on her night table. It read 6:09 AM. She decided to take a shower, dress, etc. and once she was finished it was almost 7. She hoped that the Quidditch match would be good, but with the menacing storm, it would probably be wet, dirty, and wild.
She headed down to the common room, where most of the team sat, strategizing and shining their broomsticks.
"Now…it's going to be hard to see, unless we all had glasses because then Hermione could do that spell to repel water and then we'd all be able to see," Harry said. Hermione giggled and sat herself down beside the team before breakfast.
Harry propped his elbows on his knees and sighed deeply. "This is going to be tough," he told them. "Very tough."
"Well not against Hufflepuff," Hermione said. "Justin Flinch-Fletchey is a horrible seeker. He couldn't see it even if it came up to him and danced the hokey-pokey in a Hawaiian skirt!"
Ron snorted. "I think that's the first humorous thing you've said all year Hermione!" he exclaimed.
The Quidditch team, Hermione, and many other Gryffindors headed down to the Great Hall, which also looked dark and dreary because of the enchanted ceiling, which was showing disastrous sights.
Hermione sat down and shifted uneasily. Thunder was rumbling outside and it was beginning to get on Hermione's nerves. She glanced at her breakfast (pancakes) and began to eat.
"Stormy weather conditions, eh?" Hagrid roared, soaking and dripping as he walked through the Great Hall. "Yeh'll do fine tho' Harry, righ'? Make me proud!"
Harry nodded confidently, but still looked worried as he urged his teammates to eat, while not actually eating anything himself.
Finally, at a quarter to 10, the Quidditch team made their way outside, with Oliver close behind them, holding the box with all of the Quidditch materials. Most of the thunder and lightning had stopped by that time, but the rain was pouring down harder than ever and the wind was blowing harshly.
The team made its way to the locker room, almost as soaked as Hagrid. They changed into their Quidditch robes without drying, for they knew they would get wet in 5 minutes time, anyway.
Harry sat before them, his Firebolt 450 gripped tightly in his hand. He gulped and opened his mouth to say something, but a sudden roar of thunder drowned him out. "Team," he managed to say. "Pray we stay on our broomsticks…pray that we try our best…pray that we will win!"
"HOORAH!" they cried, screaming and cheering. Not even the thunder could drown them as they roared and yelled, running onto the Quidditch pitch enthusiastically.
The rest of the school greeted them with loud applause. Oliver stood in the middle of the pitch, unlocking the box containing the balls. The bludgers went flying and the snitch was only seen for a brief moment before zooming out of sight. Oliver mounted his broom and held the quaffle. "All right," he yelled. "Mount your brooms!"
Harry jumped onto his broom. He turned his head slightly and nodded to Ron, who was hovering slightly. Ron nodded back.
"Let's play Quidditch!" a young voice cried. Thomas Jordan, a third year, and Lee Jordan's younger brother, was commentating the match. "It's Hufflepuff against Gryffindor! Harry Potter is the seeker for Gryffindor, and a fabulous one at that. Riding a Firebolt 450, he is nothing but a blur and will probably catch the snitch with no problem. He-"
"THOMAS! CAN YOU COMMENT THE MATCH?" Professor McGonagull shrieked. She didn't seem very happy that there was another Jordan to comment the match.
"Sorry, Professor!" he apologized. "Anyways – Justin Flinch-Fletchey is the seeker for Hufflepuff, riding a Twister. Parvati Patil has the Quaffle – she makes a beautiful pass to Lavender Brown, who is flying across the pitch with ease, despite the difficult rain. She passes it to Selina Teeny, a very beautiful Gryffindor, who arrived in year 5 and has gleaming brown hair and…"
"WE DON'T WANT AN EXPLANATION ON WHAT SHE LOOKS LIKE THOMAS!" Professor McGonagull yelled. "JUST GET ON WITH IT!"
"Won't happen again, Professor!" he promised. "Anyways, the throw is intercepted by Hufflepuff's main chaser Frederick Goones who zooms his way across the Quidditch pitch. Ron Weasley blocks a bludger from hitting Lavender in the head and sends in to where Frederick Goones is flying! Ooh, that was a tough hit!"
Oliver watched and listened to the commentating. He wished he was actually playing the Quidditch match – he loved blocking goals and doing what he loved to do…not that being a referee was all that bad…"It's better than being a spectator," he said miserably.
"Dean Thomas blocks the goal from getting in," Thomas continued. "He passes it to Selina Teeny, who flies towards the goal but is blocked by the Hufflepuff beaters, she flies above them but is blown a bit off course because of the rain....She continues to fly and throws the Quaffle…it's…it's…it's a GOAL! 10-0 GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry did some loops of excitement and continued his search for the snitch. It was difficult to see, even though Hermione put the repel-water spell on his glasses yet again. The wind was getting very harsh, and gleams of gold ending up being strikes of lightning.
"Frederick gains possession of the ball…he passes it to Geena Davis who flies across the Quidditch pitch…a bludger comes flying sent by Colin Creevey…she manages to get around it but it blocked by another bludger by Ron Weasley…this one sends the Quaffle straight out of her hands and Lavender Brown gets the ball! She flies around the pitch and passes it to Parvati…she catches it, but she almost drops it…she flies towards the goal…ooh, that strike of lightning almost hit her, folks! She throws it and…GOAL again! Why isn't Derek Ronford blocking them?!"
Harry continued to look for the snitch, Justin Flinch-Fletchey right on his tail. Harry swerved to stop Justin from following him…he just swerved and began to follow Harry again. Harry sighed. "First Malfoy, now Flinch- Fletchey," he muttered.
Around 10 minutes later, the score was 70-10 Gryffindor, and Harry still hadn't spotted the snitch. "Either I've gone blind or it's found a very good hiding spot," Harry murmured as he continued to search, very soaked.
Hermione watched eagerly from her seat, very dry and very warm (she had made her famous "fire in a jar" again). She sat behind Hagrid, who was scowling and wishing that the match would end, since "Fang is gettin' lonely. He hates storms," Hagrid explained.
Oliver gave a few fouls during the game, but he couldn't see much besides that because of the never-ending storm. He sighed deeply, and wished that he was sitting beside Hermione, warm and dry. He noticed her and gave her a smile, she returned it, but seemed more focused on the game.
Ron continuously whacked bludgers and sent them flying in different directions…he had grown tired, but wanted to make Harry proud. "He's my coach, captain…and best friend," he reminded himself, as he sent another bludger flying. "Gotta make him proud…everybody proud!"
"The score is 120-40 and the game continues," Thomas announced hoarsely, some 20 minutes later. "No one has caught sight of the snitch yet…WAIT! What's Harry Potter doing?"
Harry had suddenly dove down in a rush of energy. He had spotted the snitch floating merrily across the muddy grass. He was going very fast and not even Justin Flinch-Fletchey or a dragon could catch up with him. He threw out his arm and felt the snitch fly into his open palm. He gripped it tightly and shouted "I'VE GOT THE SNITCH!"
The whole stadium erupted with cheers (except for most of the Hufflepuff and Slytherin ends). The immensely muddy Gryffindor Team swooped down and cheered, whooped, hollered, and yelled that they were victorious. Oliver dismounted his broom and congratulated the team while Hagrid and Hermione ran onto the muddy pitch, no longer dry and warm.
The victory and cheers lasted into the night. They had a nice big party in the Gryffindor Common Room which consisted of Butterbeer and food taken from the kitchens. It also consisted of them dancing around to "I love it when you call me big papa". Ron sprang up and idea by saying it should be the Gryffindor Quidditch Team's new theme song. Hermione thought he was only joking. The party ended suddenly when Neville accidentally dropped Ron's supplies of Dungbombs. Hermione was thankful, however; she wanted to go to bed a long time ago, but couldn't because of the celebrations.
Hermione rested her head on her pillow, wishing Oliver was right there beside her, wherever she went. She was lost in some confusion; he wanted to be with her, but the professor/student relationship got in the way. "He's not a professor, though," she told herself constantly, wishing those words were true. "He's just a young boy."
Hermione wondered when these thoughts would ever come true.
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Here's Chapter 11! The "I love it when you call me big papa" is from "Hardball", a really cute movie, and I just wanted to put it in because it's funny…yep! *lol* Here are the thanks to my reviewers:
KAOS – Yep! Of course you got thanked twice! *lol* You're my best reviewer, of course. Nowies? Next chapter nowies? Okie-dokie! Thanks for all the suggestions, kind reviews, etc. You're the best! And congrats on the 100%!
Oliver Lover – No Oliver…yes, I know…the sadness! But he's in this one and he won't disappear or apparate because honestly, he can't apparate in the Hogwarts Grounds *lol*
LOTR&HPLver – I'm really glad that you think this story is great! I will continue – don't despair!
Miyu-chan – Sugar high? *lol* I love sugar! I will keep writing, I just had to decide what was going to happen next! But it's here!
RECOMMENDATIONS: "Three Little Words" by Ducky-Doll. An O/H fic that is really sweet, but has just been completed. {Sigh} Guess I have to find ANOTHER favourite.
"On the Way to Infinity" by G*ness. An O/H trilogy. This is the third installment, and these books are incredibly made. D/H also ties in, but it's mainly O/H. PLEASE READ!
ALSO:
Please read "My Life Or Something Like It" it's my real-life diary that I have – I write in a notebook during school, at home and then I type it up on the computer, upload it onto ff.net and show you my life. Full with laughs, embarrassment, and other stuff about my life (boys, school, clothes, friends, etc.)
"What about all of the things that you said?
What about all of the promises that you made?
What about all of the nights that you gave?
What about all of the things you told me?"
- "What About Us" by Brandy
Hermione gathered her books at the empty table, tears threatening to stream down her face. She had just made a life-altering move, and suddenly, it was all taken down from underneath her, without her knowing it. Her heart began to pound.
She wanted to go and find Oliver, wherever he went, but Care of Magical Creatures was waiting for her as the warning bell rang throughout the halls. She walked towards the entrance hall, and looked at her timetable once again to see what she had afterwards. After Care of Magical Creatures was lunch, and then afterwards…Broomstick Practice. Hermione's heart pounded again. She'd be able to tell the news to Oliver…they weren't caught, she had cast a spell on Neville making him forget the kissing dilemma (was it a dilemma? Hermione wasn't too sure).
She walked onto the grounds across to Hagrid's hut. Harry and Ron soon caught up with her, greeting her and laughing about Divination, but Hermione was only half-listening. She had better things on her mind than to learn about when Neville cast the spell and hit a teacup which ricocheted and hit him in the chin. She did listen to the part when Harry explained another one of Professor Trewlaney's predictions (about Harry's death, of course). She even laughed when Ron spoke up during class.
"You know what's amazing, Professor Trewlaney?"
"What Ron?" Professor Trewlaney replied, her misty voice filled with anxiousness.
"It's amazing," Ron continued, "That you've predicted Harry's death, what is it, 9 times in a row now? I'm not too sure; I've lost count. But it's even more amazing that during those 9 thousand, or whatever, times that you've predicted it, Harry hasn't died once! He must be a metal man or something, don't you think? A miracle man – no wonder Voldemort couldn't touch you, Harry, eh?"
Hermione was astonished however, at Professor Trewlaney's reply, which was, "We'll see about that."
Care of Magical Creatures wasn't all too exciting. They learned about Diricawl, a plump-bodied, fluffy-feathered, flightless bird. Harry was amused for it could vanish up in a puff of feathers and reappear elsewhere such as a phoenix (Harry absolutely adored Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix). They spent the rest of the class attempting to catch the Diricawl, which was amazingly fast; Hermione only did it half-heartedly, and tried to make an attempt at talking to Hagrid first, and then, after lunch, talking to Oliver.
"So, Hermione – how yeh doin'?" Hagrid asked, chuckling as Neville smashed into a tree when the Diricawl disappeared.
"Not too well, Hagrid," Hermione admitted, petting the Diricawl which landed on her shoulder before it vanished again.
"If it's abou' yeh're classes, I'm sure yeh'll do fine, Hermione," Hagrid assured her. "Yeh always do great, don't yeh?"
Hermione sighed. Hagrid was trying to cheer her up, and it did a bit; but he didn't really understand her feelings. Hermione understood, though; nobody could read minds, not even Professor Trewlaney (although she made it seem like she could). "Thanks, Hagrid."
A bell sounded throughout the grounds about 40 minutes later. Hermione, Harry, and Ron gathered up their things and headed inside again for lunch. Hermione hoped that Oliver would make an appearance at lunch, but unfortunately, his seat was empty during the meal.
"What's the matter, Hermione?" Ron asked as he munched on some chips (or fries). "You're not touching anything or eating."
"Yeah, cat got your tongue?" Harry joked, poking Hermione in the elbow.
"Cat got your tongue?" Ron questioned, an incredibly puzzled look on his face. "How can a cat get your tongue? I mean, I thought you might say, Peeves got your conk, 'cause that's what he used to do, right? He'd zoom around and say, "GOT YOUR CONK" and all that, but cat got your tongue? How can Crookshanks, or any cat for that matter, get your tongue?"
"IT'S A FIGURE OF SPEECH, RON!" Harry and Hermione yelled together. Ron looked at them both, shocked.
"A figure of speech?" Ron questioned again. "How can it be a figure…of speech? I'm absolutely, bloody confused."
Harry and Hermione glared at him evilly; the thought of killing him was tempting. Ron gulped, "I'll think I'll shut up now," and didn't say a word for the remainder of the meal.
At the end of lunch (which Hermione had been anxiously awaiting since Care of Magical Creatures), Hermione gathered up her things again and headed onto the grounds, this time getting a good look at the surroundings, since she loved looking at fall in November.
The leaves on the trees were crisp with golden brown, bronze, deep yellow, crimson, and sunny oranges – many trees were becoming very bare, but others looked marvelous with thousands of colourful leaves on it. On the way to the Quidditch stands, Harry and Ron found it amusing to gather up all the leaves and jump onto it. By the end of their fun, Harry had several leaves in his hair and Ron complained that he had some leaves down his trousers.
By the time they had finally reached the Quidditch stands, the rest of the class had already assembled.
"Nobody's here," Lavender informed them, looking around eagerly. She glanced at Ron and winked at him; Ron returned the wink and began to turn a deep red, almost as dark as some of the leaves.
Finally, after 10 minutes of anxious waiting, Oliver appeared, looking very worried and depressed. He managed a small smile, and asked everyone to pick out their broomsticks before asking Hermione to talk with him.
Harry and Ron looked puzzled, but Hermione told them it would be all right, so they nodded and let her go.
"What happened?" Oliver asked, running his fingers through his hair nervously.
"It's all right," she confirmed. "I caught up with Neville, erased that total memory of us…well, yeah."
"Look, Hermione," Oliver began. "I really, really, really, really…REALLY like you, but since I'm a professor and you're a student…"
Hermione hung her head low, careful not to let her emotions show. "I understand…"
"No, it's not that," Oliver insisted. "Let me continue! I really, really, really, really, really…REALLY, REALLY like you, but since I'm a professor and you're a student, we'll have to either keep it a secret or keep it on hold, since I'm sure if anyone finds out we'll both get sacked…well, I will, anyway. And since we're both leaving in a year, then I guess…well, it depends…since if you're going to go off to college…"
"Let's not think about that," Hermione told him. "We still got the whole summer before I decide to go anywhere. And besides, we're still fairly young. We don't know what may be coming our way, you understand? But thanks, Oliver…thanks…"
"OY! What are you two talking about?" Ron called. He held his broomstick high above his head and shouted, "We got a class to start! Stop conversing and start flying!"
Oliver and Hermione chuckled and made their way over.
"All right," Oliver began, looking at Hermione and smiling. "We're going to learn about Beaters today."
"FINALLY!" Ron cried exasperatedly.
"Yes, Weasley – it's your turn to show us your incredible skills," Oliver agreed.
"What skills?" Malfoy interrupted. He had just come into the Quidditch pitch, along with Crabbe and Goyle. Ron turned a very light shade of pink.
"He has an amazing amount of skill, Mr Malfoy," Oliver said angrily. "And you have an amazing amount of skill too, Mr Malfoy. I think you're biggest skill, if you would like to call it a skill, is your attitude problem."
All of the Gryffindors laughed, but Oliver continued without the slightest amount of amusement in his voice, "Why bother showing up for class if you can't even bother to show up on time Mr Malfoy?"
Draco opened his mouth to say something, but Oliver continued, "20 points from Slytherin – and I think you owe an apology to Ron. And if any inappropriate word pops out of that mouth, I will be adding another weeks detention to the ones you already have."
Malfoy stood, stunned. He opened his mouth and closed it again; he didn't know what to say. Finally, he spoke, "Sorry…Weasley."
"That's more like it," Oliver said. "Now, let's get started."
Ron showed a superb way of blocking bludgers and which direction to send them flying. They spent the rest of the class avoiding flying goblets and plates, that disappeared once you hit them far away and reappeared, without a crack or smashing done to it.
After an amazing class, an amazing week followed. Although Hermione constantly thought about Oliver (and that made her worried because she thought her marks would suffer), the reverse happened; she thought that if she finished the work that was assigned and answered the questions given to her, she's be able to spend the remaining time with Oliver – and it worked! Wednesday night arrived, and Oliver and Hermione spent some time protecting the castle and watching on guard, and the other time talking, doing homework…and other things. No one appeared all night as Hermione watched the Marauder's Map…she figured maybe they had given up.
After Wednesday, the rest of the week was superb. Nobody thought it at all suspicious that Oliver had now begun to sit at the Gryffindor table during meals. Most of the Gryffindors girls loved it, because it was Oliver Wood; the guys thought it was superb because then they could ask all about Quidditch life on a team; and Oliver did it so he could sit closer to Hermione while answer some questions all the while.
Finally, Friday had arrived; it was the day before the second Quidditch match of the season (the first was Slytherin against Ravenclaw – Slytherin won, but Ravenclaw still had a match against Gryffindor to see who would be at the championship game, unless Hufflepuff won).
Harry had called up a match just a few hours before midnight, since Hufflepuff stole the slot for an earlier time. He stood among his team; Oliver and Hermione were watching the practice, seeing as they had nothing better to do anyway.
"All right men," Harry began.
"And WOMEN!" Lavender spoke up.
"And women," Harry repeated. "This is the first match of the season…and we can't afford to lose!"
"AMEN!" Ron said. "Let's start practice!"
The team left the locker room, all dressed in the robes. Harry stood there, looking around the empty locker room, stunned. "…I wasn't finished!" he cried exasperatedly.
Hermione and Oliver sat down in their seats, but Oliver stood up for a moment, and cleared his throat very loudly. The team looked at him eagerly, wondering what he was going to say.
"I just have some words of encouragement for this practice and for tomorrow's game," he declared.
"All right then!" Lavender called, mounting her broom and winking her eyes. "Let's hear it!"
"OKAY!" he shouted back, clearing his throat again. He wiggled his hips and said, "I love it when you call me big papa!"
The whole team gave him a puzzled look as Oliver turned a bright shade of red. He shrugged sheepishly while saying, "Sorry…it's from a Muggle movie called 'Hardball'!"
The whole team laughed, including Hermione. Ron flew up in the air and shouted, "I love it when you call me big papa!" And the whole team repeated it as they practiced for the game.
Hermione and Oliver observed but eventually agreed that it was boring and made their way to the exit, when Oliver suddenly grabbed her by the arm.
"Yikes!" she cried, as he pulled her to the side, hidden from view.
He looked at her and smiled. "Quidditch IS my passion, but it's boring to not be participating," Oliver told her.
Hermione nodded, gazing into his eyes without a care.
"Do you want to find a less boring and more comfortable spot?" he asked suggestively, holding her hand kindly.
She nodded and he led her back inside the Hogwarts castle. He looked and her and was overwhelmed with happy emotions. Hermione noticed and smiled, but a big lump was stuck in her throat, and she couldn't manage to swallow it.
"What does he want to do?" Hermione thought. "I don't want to…well…I don't want this to go by too quickly…I don't want to be treated like I was in the summertime …ANYTHING but that…but, what does he plan to do?"
They past the second floor, the third floor, and Hermione's hand was still clasped in Oliver's…She was actually wishing that he would let her go her way to the Gryffindor Tower, but they continued…It wasn't that she didn't LOVE him, for she did, so much…She just didn't want it to go by so quickly, since there was so much to learn about each other…
He led her up all the way to the 9th floor, where Oliver's office was…she gulped again, but sighed and headed on in…
His office was cleaned respectively and loads of medals lined against the walls that weren't there before (Hermione figured that he decided to put them somewhere else before).
He asked her to sit down. "Hermione…"
She gulped and sighed some more, but the rest of the question stunned her.
"…would you like some tea?"
She smiled, and feeling like she hadn't done it for days, began to grin. "Sure!" she replied, putting her hair behind her ears nervously, not knowing what to say or when to say it.
"Are you all right?" Oliver asked, setting the tea down on the table. "You seem…jumpy."
Hermione shook her head, although in her mind she knew he was right. She took the cup of tea which began to splash all over because her hands were shaking. "I'm…I'm fine," she insisted.
"Of course you are," Oliver replied sarcastically. He sat down beside her and gazed at her, with his enormous brown eyes. "Tell me – what's up, Hermione?"
"To be honest…" Hermione began. "…I thought you brought me up here for something."
"I did!" he exclaimed, sipping some more tea. "To talk."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Really, then? Let's talk."
"Um…"
They began in silence – Oliver then struck up a question about school, and they talked for hours and hours. No one came looking for them since it Harry and Ron were still at practice, and they were grateful. Finally, around 11:30 pm, they began to hold hands and sat in silence, just gazing into each other's eyes.
Suddenly, they heard an odd thumping. Hermione jumped up, startled; she didn't want to be caught yet again with a teacher.
"Is it the door?" she asked, glancing with whimpering eyes at the shut door.
"I'll check," Oliver told her. He walked over to the door, practically tip- toeing. He turned the knob and opened the door a smidge; no one was there. "Nope…"
"Maybe it's an owl," she guessed, looking out the window. Nothing was there.
"Maybe…" he agreed, as he sat down again with Hermione.
Suddenly, as Oliver stood up to get more tea, a head popped out from the cushion.
"PEEVES!" Hermione gasped.
"Hello, ickle seventh year," he cackled, swinging through the air in Oliver's office. "Well, you're not so ickle anymore, are ya?" He flew over to Hermione, grabbed her hair, and pulled it very roughly. Hermione shrieked.
"Ah…an ickle seventh year and…a professor!" he observed, glancing at Oliver, who had smashed all of the cups on the ground at Peeves' appearance. "Ooh…ickle seventh year…professor!" He cackled again. "I should tell Professor Dumbledore…that I should…ickle seventh years shouldn't be talking with professors…especially in OFFICES…"
"Hermione's a Head Girl and I'm a professor," Oliver told him. "Anything else besides that matter would be preposterous." He caught Hermione's eyes and winked. Thankfully, Peeves didn't notice, but continued to smile.
"So sorry, Professor Wood," he apologized, although he sounded slightly sarcastic. "I will never disturb you…PROFESSIONALS…again." He laughed slightly and flew through the ceiling.
Oliver rolled his eyes and sat down again. "Don't take that offensively…that 'preposterous' thing, I mean-"
"I understand," Hermione interrupted. "It's cover-up. I want to keep this hushed up too you know. If it gets out – a disaster could happen. The professors would be angry, the girls would be angry…"
Oliver laughed. "Well, I don't want you to think I'm brushing you off or…'dissing' you or anything, but tomorrow's the second Quidditch Match and I've got to referee…"
"I understand," Hermione repeated. "You've got to get you sleep."
Oliver leaned in and kissed her softly. "That's why I love you. You always seem to know what I'm going to say."
Hermione shrugged sheepishly. "I guess."
"Do you want me to escort you to the Gryffindor Tower – so you won't get in trouble?" Oliver suggested, standing up.
"No," Hermione rejected. "I'd rather go by myself. Not that I'm brushing you off or…'dissing' you or anything, but…"
"It's cover-up – if we're seen together too much people might get suspicious," Oliver finished. Hermione nodded in agreement.
"Good night," he said, kissing her on the cheek.
"Good night," she repeated, closing the door behind her.
Hermione sighed breathlessly as she began to walk to the Gryffindor Tower. She noticed many portraits on the wall that she didn't notice before; she hadn't been to that floor many times until Oliver's office had been built there. Some portraits contained bunny rabbits that were hopping around merrily; young wizards and witches on a boat; a princess witch who was curtseying to Hermione and many others caressed the wall.
She eventually reached the Fat Lady portrait without running into anyone. She gave the password ("Peppermint Crème") and headed inside the Gryffindor common room.
The Gryffindor Quidditch team lay on the couches, exhausted. All of their robes were smothered in mud, grass stains, and in Ron's case…blood.
"What happened Ron?" Hermione asked anxiously, sitting down beside him.
"I was…I was…" he began. But he couldn't continue to speak, since more blood came flowing out of his mouth. Hermione grimaced and turned her head to Harry, as a sign of him to continue.
"Bludger…" he said. Hermione nodded and turned back to Ron.
"Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey's," she suggested, helping Ron up. Ron agreed and headed out of the room, escorted by Lavender, who was holding him up.
"Our Quidditch robes are ruined!" Colin Creevey cried, looking upon his barely recognizable Quidditch robe. "We'll never get them clean for tomorrow's game!"
"Never underestimate the power of magic," Hermione told the team. She taught them an "easy" spell ("Roofus, weleness yewans terramos") that got rid of all of the stains on their robes; they practically looked brand-new.
Dean Thomas looked like he could kiss her; Harry did, on the cheek. "Thanks Hermione! Laundry problems solved!" he declared, the whole team roaring with him.
Ron appeared 15 minutes later with Lavender. His mouth was no longer bloody and he smiled, but he frowned slightly as he noticed the teams' robes all spick-and-span he looked upon his, which were so dirty that they had turned brown.
"Roofus, weleness yewans terramos!" the whole team cried together, pointing their wands directly at Ron and Lavender. Ron and Lavender were thrown up into the air and spun around into a tornado, but once it stopped, it looked as though they had just taken a shower and washed their clothes 4 times in a row.
Eventually, around one in the morning, the team decided to go bed. "Wait," Harry said drowsily. "I have some words of encouragement for tomorrow's game."
The team and Hermione stood in silence awaiting his answer.
"I LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL ME BIG PAPA!" Harry roared through a fistful of laughter. The whole team erupted with cheers, roars, and laughter until Professor McGonagull appeared in her teal nightgown, her hair in rollers, scolding them for being so loud.
Hermione rested her head on her pillows 15 minutes later. She sure tomorrow was going to be an excellent day, and drifted into a peaceful sleep….
which was interrupted abruptly by a struck of lightning and rolling thunder. She stood up in her bed, and scooped Crookshanks up into her arms, who was sleeping beside her earlier.
"So much for an EXCELLENT day," she muttered, looking out the window to the grounds below.
It looked more like a hurricane than a storm. The wind was howling as it blew the lovely leaves off the trees; the rain was pouring down and looked as though it was hail; the thunder echoed throughout the castle as it rumbled; and the lightning made the scene looked horrifying. The most horrifying sight was the sight of the Forbidden Forest. It looked absolutely terrifying. Hermione shivered.
She placed Crookshanks on the ground, who purred softly. She glanced at her clock that rested on her night table. It read 6:09 AM. She decided to take a shower, dress, etc. and once she was finished it was almost 7. She hoped that the Quidditch match would be good, but with the menacing storm, it would probably be wet, dirty, and wild.
She headed down to the common room, where most of the team sat, strategizing and shining their broomsticks.
"Now…it's going to be hard to see, unless we all had glasses because then Hermione could do that spell to repel water and then we'd all be able to see," Harry said. Hermione giggled and sat herself down beside the team before breakfast.
Harry propped his elbows on his knees and sighed deeply. "This is going to be tough," he told them. "Very tough."
"Well not against Hufflepuff," Hermione said. "Justin Flinch-Fletchey is a horrible seeker. He couldn't see it even if it came up to him and danced the hokey-pokey in a Hawaiian skirt!"
Ron snorted. "I think that's the first humorous thing you've said all year Hermione!" he exclaimed.
The Quidditch team, Hermione, and many other Gryffindors headed down to the Great Hall, which also looked dark and dreary because of the enchanted ceiling, which was showing disastrous sights.
Hermione sat down and shifted uneasily. Thunder was rumbling outside and it was beginning to get on Hermione's nerves. She glanced at her breakfast (pancakes) and began to eat.
"Stormy weather conditions, eh?" Hagrid roared, soaking and dripping as he walked through the Great Hall. "Yeh'll do fine tho' Harry, righ'? Make me proud!"
Harry nodded confidently, but still looked worried as he urged his teammates to eat, while not actually eating anything himself.
Finally, at a quarter to 10, the Quidditch team made their way outside, with Oliver close behind them, holding the box with all of the Quidditch materials. Most of the thunder and lightning had stopped by that time, but the rain was pouring down harder than ever and the wind was blowing harshly.
The team made its way to the locker room, almost as soaked as Hagrid. They changed into their Quidditch robes without drying, for they knew they would get wet in 5 minutes time, anyway.
Harry sat before them, his Firebolt 450 gripped tightly in his hand. He gulped and opened his mouth to say something, but a sudden roar of thunder drowned him out. "Team," he managed to say. "Pray we stay on our broomsticks…pray that we try our best…pray that we will win!"
"HOORAH!" they cried, screaming and cheering. Not even the thunder could drown them as they roared and yelled, running onto the Quidditch pitch enthusiastically.
The rest of the school greeted them with loud applause. Oliver stood in the middle of the pitch, unlocking the box containing the balls. The bludgers went flying and the snitch was only seen for a brief moment before zooming out of sight. Oliver mounted his broom and held the quaffle. "All right," he yelled. "Mount your brooms!"
Harry jumped onto his broom. He turned his head slightly and nodded to Ron, who was hovering slightly. Ron nodded back.
"Let's play Quidditch!" a young voice cried. Thomas Jordan, a third year, and Lee Jordan's younger brother, was commentating the match. "It's Hufflepuff against Gryffindor! Harry Potter is the seeker for Gryffindor, and a fabulous one at that. Riding a Firebolt 450, he is nothing but a blur and will probably catch the snitch with no problem. He-"
"THOMAS! CAN YOU COMMENT THE MATCH?" Professor McGonagull shrieked. She didn't seem very happy that there was another Jordan to comment the match.
"Sorry, Professor!" he apologized. "Anyways – Justin Flinch-Fletchey is the seeker for Hufflepuff, riding a Twister. Parvati Patil has the Quaffle – she makes a beautiful pass to Lavender Brown, who is flying across the pitch with ease, despite the difficult rain. She passes it to Selina Teeny, a very beautiful Gryffindor, who arrived in year 5 and has gleaming brown hair and…"
"WE DON'T WANT AN EXPLANATION ON WHAT SHE LOOKS LIKE THOMAS!" Professor McGonagull yelled. "JUST GET ON WITH IT!"
"Won't happen again, Professor!" he promised. "Anyways, the throw is intercepted by Hufflepuff's main chaser Frederick Goones who zooms his way across the Quidditch pitch. Ron Weasley blocks a bludger from hitting Lavender in the head and sends in to where Frederick Goones is flying! Ooh, that was a tough hit!"
Oliver watched and listened to the commentating. He wished he was actually playing the Quidditch match – he loved blocking goals and doing what he loved to do…not that being a referee was all that bad…"It's better than being a spectator," he said miserably.
"Dean Thomas blocks the goal from getting in," Thomas continued. "He passes it to Selina Teeny, who flies towards the goal but is blocked by the Hufflepuff beaters, she flies above them but is blown a bit off course because of the rain....She continues to fly and throws the Quaffle…it's…it's…it's a GOAL! 10-0 GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry did some loops of excitement and continued his search for the snitch. It was difficult to see, even though Hermione put the repel-water spell on his glasses yet again. The wind was getting very harsh, and gleams of gold ending up being strikes of lightning.
"Frederick gains possession of the ball…he passes it to Geena Davis who flies across the Quidditch pitch…a bludger comes flying sent by Colin Creevey…she manages to get around it but it blocked by another bludger by Ron Weasley…this one sends the Quaffle straight out of her hands and Lavender Brown gets the ball! She flies around the pitch and passes it to Parvati…she catches it, but she almost drops it…she flies towards the goal…ooh, that strike of lightning almost hit her, folks! She throws it and…GOAL again! Why isn't Derek Ronford blocking them?!"
Harry continued to look for the snitch, Justin Flinch-Fletchey right on his tail. Harry swerved to stop Justin from following him…he just swerved and began to follow Harry again. Harry sighed. "First Malfoy, now Flinch- Fletchey," he muttered.
Around 10 minutes later, the score was 70-10 Gryffindor, and Harry still hadn't spotted the snitch. "Either I've gone blind or it's found a very good hiding spot," Harry murmured as he continued to search, very soaked.
Hermione watched eagerly from her seat, very dry and very warm (she had made her famous "fire in a jar" again). She sat behind Hagrid, who was scowling and wishing that the match would end, since "Fang is gettin' lonely. He hates storms," Hagrid explained.
Oliver gave a few fouls during the game, but he couldn't see much besides that because of the never-ending storm. He sighed deeply, and wished that he was sitting beside Hermione, warm and dry. He noticed her and gave her a smile, she returned it, but seemed more focused on the game.
Ron continuously whacked bludgers and sent them flying in different directions…he had grown tired, but wanted to make Harry proud. "He's my coach, captain…and best friend," he reminded himself, as he sent another bludger flying. "Gotta make him proud…everybody proud!"
"The score is 120-40 and the game continues," Thomas announced hoarsely, some 20 minutes later. "No one has caught sight of the snitch yet…WAIT! What's Harry Potter doing?"
Harry had suddenly dove down in a rush of energy. He had spotted the snitch floating merrily across the muddy grass. He was going very fast and not even Justin Flinch-Fletchey or a dragon could catch up with him. He threw out his arm and felt the snitch fly into his open palm. He gripped it tightly and shouted "I'VE GOT THE SNITCH!"
The whole stadium erupted with cheers (except for most of the Hufflepuff and Slytherin ends). The immensely muddy Gryffindor Team swooped down and cheered, whooped, hollered, and yelled that they were victorious. Oliver dismounted his broom and congratulated the team while Hagrid and Hermione ran onto the muddy pitch, no longer dry and warm.
The victory and cheers lasted into the night. They had a nice big party in the Gryffindor Common Room which consisted of Butterbeer and food taken from the kitchens. It also consisted of them dancing around to "I love it when you call me big papa". Ron sprang up and idea by saying it should be the Gryffindor Quidditch Team's new theme song. Hermione thought he was only joking. The party ended suddenly when Neville accidentally dropped Ron's supplies of Dungbombs. Hermione was thankful, however; she wanted to go to bed a long time ago, but couldn't because of the celebrations.
Hermione rested her head on her pillow, wishing Oliver was right there beside her, wherever she went. She was lost in some confusion; he wanted to be with her, but the professor/student relationship got in the way. "He's not a professor, though," she told herself constantly, wishing those words were true. "He's just a young boy."
Hermione wondered when these thoughts would ever come true.
****************************************************************
Here's Chapter 11! The "I love it when you call me big papa" is from "Hardball", a really cute movie, and I just wanted to put it in because it's funny…yep! *lol* Here are the thanks to my reviewers:
KAOS – Yep! Of course you got thanked twice! *lol* You're my best reviewer, of course. Nowies? Next chapter nowies? Okie-dokie! Thanks for all the suggestions, kind reviews, etc. You're the best! And congrats on the 100%!
Oliver Lover – No Oliver…yes, I know…the sadness! But he's in this one and he won't disappear or apparate because honestly, he can't apparate in the Hogwarts Grounds *lol*
LOTR&HPLver – I'm really glad that you think this story is great! I will continue – don't despair!
Miyu-chan – Sugar high? *lol* I love sugar! I will keep writing, I just had to decide what was going to happen next! But it's here!
RECOMMENDATIONS: "Three Little Words" by Ducky-Doll. An O/H fic that is really sweet, but has just been completed. {Sigh} Guess I have to find ANOTHER favourite.
"On the Way to Infinity" by G*ness. An O/H trilogy. This is the third installment, and these books are incredibly made. D/H also ties in, but it's mainly O/H. PLEASE READ!
ALSO:
Please read "My Life Or Something Like It" it's my real-life diary that I have – I write in a notebook during school, at home and then I type it up on the computer, upload it onto ff.net and show you my life. Full with laughs, embarrassment, and other stuff about my life (boys, school, clothes, friends, etc.)