Authors Note: Well I don't know if it can be done, but I've done it anyway. I've made a sequel to a one-shot.
Summary: Hermione runs into a familiar somebody at the Quidditch World Cup the summer before her seventh year.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling (and Gail Carson Levine), various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
For the Love of a Challenge
By: Fidelius Charmer
The Quidditch World Cup; a place where testosterone was in copious amounts. How Harry had convinced her to go still left Hermione pondering her sanity. She had never cared much for Quidditch. Now, though, she was stuck. Harry and Ron had decided not to show, the bastards.
On the bright side, it was a lovely day. There was a breeze and the sun had finally decided to remain hidden behind the clouds that dominated the sky. If not for the fact that she was sitting through the England vs. Bulgaria match, it would have been a perfect afternoon.
Hermione sighed; the match had started four hours ago and still the Seekers showed no sign of having found the snitch. Most likely, the game would take four more hours to end. "Might as well finish my summer reading," she muttered, pulling out her copy of 'Gnomish Silver Mining in Hazardous Terrain'. The man sitting beside her, having been attracted by her sudden movement, winced when he caught sight of the gargantuan tome.
"Excuse me miss, but might I ask why you brought a book," he said, eyeing her as if she were a St. Mungo's escapee.
"I'd say this is slightly more productive than watching men fly around on their broomsticks all day," she growled.
"Right," the man replied, scooting away from Hermione. He was hoping that whatever disease she was carrying had not already infected his peanut-sized brain.
Hermione, having been enraptured in the subject matter of her book, hardly noticed when the entire stadium had started to file out. She probably would have continued reading had it not been for a familiar baritone voice.
"I see you haven't changed, Hermione," it chuckled.
"I see you haven't either, Oliver," she replied, not lifting her gaze from her book. She groaned when it was snatched away by an offensive pair of hands.
"What sort of tripe have you been reading lately," Oliver asked, closing the book to have a look at the cover; his eyes widened once he read the title. "Oh, that kind," he said, quickly returning the tome to its rightful owner.
"You can borrow it once I'm finished; it's actually quite fascinating," Hermione grinned.
"I'd rather not. No offense, but I prefer less weighty reading material," he replied.
Hermione snorted. "The man beside me said the very same thing; how odd."
Oliver waved his hand as if to banish the thought. "No, what's odd is seeing you here. I thought you didn't like Quidditch."
"I don't. Harry convinced me to come. He and Ron were supposed to be here, but they never showed," she said, shrugging. "Well, I've got some essays that need reviewing," she said loftily. Shouldering her bag, Hermione was all set to leave, but much to her chagrin, Oliver was conveniently blocking her only exit.
"We've been in this position before, haven't we," he said with a smirk.
Hermione frowned and turned to stroll down the stadium steps in hopes of finding an exit elsewhere. "I don't recall us having been in any position before," she called over her shoulder.
"You jest! Surely you remember the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match." Oliver said, quirking his eyebrows as he followed closely behind her.
"I think your ego needs deflating, Oliver. There have been many Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff matches during my time at Hogwarts. And let me add that none of them were significant enough to remember."
"Well then let me refresh your memory." With that being said, Oliver's arms quickly wrapped around her and, much to Hermione's surprise, lifted her up effortlessly onto his broom.
She screeched and clung to him for safety, squeezing her eyes shut as they flew across the field. "I was just kidding. Of course I remember, now let me down!" she cried.
"Not until you enjoy yourself," he said.
"Don't make me have to go through all this again, Oliver. Please, just let me down."
"You infuriate me, girl," Oliver groaned, but complied as he deftly landed onto the Quidditch pitch. He let her jump off first, quickly dismounting after her and letting his broom fall to the ground.
"Aren't you going to pick that up," Hermione asked, an amused spark in her eyes as she watched him stroll toward her.
"That can wait," was his curt reply before taking her in his arms, and lowering his lips to hungrily caress hers.
"I though I was infuriating though," Hermione said, smiling as she pulled away from him.
"Yes, but for some odd reason I like."