Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing to do with Harry Potter, except for the plot of this story.

Note: Thank you for your reviews, The Reader of Books, crazyknarf, and sonsofpitchesfangirl!!

Chapter 2 - Welcome to the Cannons

"Goooood morning, and thanks for joining us, I'm DJ Dartwinkle here on 'Daily Dartwinkle' for the WWN, the Wizarding Wireless Network! It's 7:00 on a beautiful Tuesday morning, here at our Hogsmeade headquarters, the sun is shining and not…"

Hermione groaned into her pillow. She had decided long ago that 7:00 was way too early to get up.

"…So right now we have the classic 'Broomin' All Night' by the Weird Sisters! Make sure to stay tuned, after the break we'll have the infamous Harry Potter, who was traded yesterday by the Ballycastle Bats to the Chudley Cannons! We'll be back!"

Hermione's eyes opened immediately. Hearing Harry's name usually sent a resentful shiver down her spine, but this time, though, she was too surprised to react as per usual.

A familiar Weird Sisters song filled the room as Hermione swung her legs over to sit on the edge of her bed. Two years after she had graduated from Hogwarts (top of the class, naturally), Hermione hardly ever thought about Harry anymore. Her and Ron hadn't talked to him since the first day of their sixth year. He had left them in a whirlwind of disdain and anger, apparently replacing them with fame and publicity.

Hermione shook her head as she jumped off her bed and ran quickly out of the room. Scurrying down the extremely short hallway, she knocked on the door opposite hers. "Ron! Ron, wake up!"

A grunt could be heard. Wanting to tell him what she had just heard, Hermione opened the door, flooding the room with light.

Ron was still lying in bed, shielding his eyes with his arms. "Bloody hell, 'Mione, what did I do this time?"

Hermione turned on the light, causing a fresh wave of groans from Ron. "Potter's coming back to England, Ron! He's been traded!"

Ron snorted derisively. "I know, Herm, look who you're talking to. He was traded to the Cannons. I'm aware."

Hermione didn't bother to respond. Realizing Ron didn't have a radio in his room, she turned on the spot towards the door. "Accio radio!"

Hermione's slightly old fashioned radio came zooming from her room, landing neatly in her hands. To her relief, "Broomin' All Night" was still wrapping up.

As Ron sat up against his headboard, Hermione walked over and placed the radio on the bed. "Listen."

"…And welcome back! No one can resist a little Weird Sisters, their reunion tour coming to town August 11th, owl us for ticket inquiries. So, as promised, I'm joined here now by famed Seeker, Harry Potter! What's up, Harry?"

Ron's mouth hung open as an unmistakable laugh came from the radio.

"Not much, Dartwinkle, just getting ready to settle back down in my home country. It's great to be back, that's for sure."

"Explain to me something, Harry - can I call you 'Harry?' - the rumours are relentless. What really happened between you and the Ballycastle organization?"

Hermione sat on the edge of Ron's bed, arms and legs crossed as they heard Harry sigh.

"It was getting ridiculous, it was. Let me get this out - I never threatened to curse our captain or our coach, nor did I sleep with his wife."

Ron snorted.

"This is how it is, Dartwinkle. When I signed on with Ballycastle in '98, they told me I was going to be the club player; I was going to carry the team on my shoulders, and I was excited about that. Two years later, however, I'm playing on a team full of reserve players, still carrying the team on my back."

Harry paused, as though to allow his words to sink in.

"Barnest Magpie, the Bats' coach, told me once, 'You have to find the key, Potter, find the key to the truth of this team.' Well, I've tried. I've been searching low and high, and I've tried to find the key to fifty million fables. And none have had any truth to them. So, anyway, I finally went up to Barnest and said, 'Look. I'm looking for me, you're looking for you. We're looking at each other, and we don't know what to do. So, I'll make it easy: trade me.'"

Hermione laughed out loud. "Really, how cheesy can he be?" Ron shook his head in disgust.

"So, I got the trade. Ballycastle has no chemistry, and Magpie is doing nothing about it. Now, believe me, I play Quidditch for the thrill of the sport, but in the end, we all want the Championship. If I stay with the Bats, I won't get to get what I'm after 'til the day I die.

"Magpie's publicly called me a sellout and said that I lack real Seeker qualities, but in the end, I'm a Seeker, and I'm a really desperate man."

DJ Dartwinkle laughed. So did Ron.

"Harry, you're a great laugh. So let's move on. You're coming back to England where you'll really be in the public's eye for the first time since you--"

"Defeated Voldemort, yes."

"Right. How do you enjoy being personified as the ultimate hero?"

"Well, I'll tell you, having my own Chocolate Frog card is a huge deal for me, I love that. But it gets to be a bit much, to tell the truth. I mean, I'm really just a regular wizard. I'm happy when life's good, and when it's bad I cry. I learned how to raise my voice in anger, because I get mad as well, you see? I'm really no different than any other twenty-year-old guy, you know?"

"Makes complete sense, Harry. Let's talk about the Cannons. Are you excited to be moving to this team?"

"Oh, for sure! I'm completely excited to be joining the Chudley organization! When I was still in school, it was actually the Cannons that I followed the closest. That's not saying much, though, since I was totally cut off from the wizarding world other than school."

Ron glowered at he radio, but didn't say anything.

"Well, that's excellent for you, Harry, and the Chudley Cannons! Now, how about your contract? How long--"

"Shut it off," snapped Ron. "I don't want to hear about the five years he's signed for, or the 950,000 Galleons he'll make each year."

Ron kept complaining as Hermione tapped the radio with her wand and sent it back to her room. "He followed the Cannons? What was it he said to me after I wrote something about them in one of his textbooks? Along the lines of, 'Write a decent team in my book for a change,' it was. Yeah, huge supporter."

Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything, eyes glued to the floor. She had never paid attention to the Quidditch scene, she found the sport savage and barbaric. She was thankful of her disinterest, too. Because she couldn't have cared less, she didn't have to hear about how Harry Potter saved the Bats game after game, or how despite his gallivant efforts, Ballycastle lost once again. She wasn't forced to hear about Harry all the time in the newspapers, through other Quidditch fans, or on numerous sports radio shows.

Ron tried to ignore it all, Hermione knew that. He lived for Quidditch, and would be playing professionally if he could; he had just never been good enough. He never mentioned it to her, but their former friend was unceasingly mentioned in the Sports portion of the Daily Prophet, fondly nicknamed "the Bible" by Ron. He knew that it was enough that he, himself was forced to know Harry's every move, and that Hermione would plainly rather not know.

This time, though, Hermione was surprised Ron hadn't said anything. She found herself slightly annoyed at learning of the big news from an overenthusiastic Squib in a building ten streets down that didn't even know her.

Ron seemed to sense Hermione's indignation. "What's wrong, Herm?" he asked as he sat up, bearing an apprehensive look.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know… It's pretty big news, I guess I'm just a bit surprised you didn't tell me, or something."

"Aw, come on, Hermione," Ron groaned, "even I didn't want to know about this! I mean, the Cannons? This is horrible! And I know you don't like hearing about him, so I didn't say anything."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. As much as she could see that Ron was keeping her own requests in mind, it certainly seemed as though he was a bit thick. Did he not think she was going to find out from someone else? This wasn't everyday news, like the results of a game. This was one of the most famous wizards of their time, moving back to his birth country. Still, shaking her head, Hermione didn't bother retorting. Letting Ron think he won was always easier than participating in one of their stereotypical yelling matches. "I'm going to get ready for work."

Ron was incredibly stubborn, and would argue until he was blue in the face. Facts and examples didn't matter to him. Numerous times, Hermione would prove herself right partly through an argument, only to have Ron reply with something so immature and bull-headed that Hermione couldn't help but continue fighting. He often acted like the obnoxious younger brother you wanted so desperately to smack upside the head.

Closing the bathroom door behind her, Hermione risked sneaking a peek in the mirror. Scoffing at her reflection, she quickly turned around to prepare the bathtub. Hermione couldn't stand her reflection before her morning shower: her hair was always incredibly bushy, and her skin was slightly blotchy.

She hadn't minded her bushy hair back in school; after all, she had all she needed in Harry and Ron, and they didn't care that her hair was unruly. Once she had graduated, however, Hermione had come to the harsh realization that other people would care.

Hermione realized that even though it was extremely prude and shallow, the wizarding world mirrored the Muggle world in the way that it was fairly image-driven. It only took four job and internship interviews for her to figure out that wizards were looking for a sophisticated, mature, ambitious worker who looked the part.

And so, for the first time in her life, Hermione felt she had a valid reason to work on her appearance. She underwent a mass change: a haircut from an actual stylist, colour and highlights that didn't come from a bottle, an elaborate collection of make-up fit for all occasions, and a wardrobe chalk-full of robes of varying fanciness.

The alteration in her look caused Hermione to flush red at the thought of her plainness during her Hogwarts years. Although, she was far from vain, as she still refused to spend excessive and unneeded hours in front of a reflective surface that could be better spent studying or working.

Hermione stepped out of the shower, drying her sopping wet hair and body with a plush towel. For the following half hour, she utilized a mixture of magical and Muggle products, straightening her shoulder blade-length brown, bronze and blonde hair, enhancing her already large eyes and high cheekbones, and choosing a casual, yet formal robe.

Hermione immediately noticed Ron's serious bed-head and worn pyjamas as she entered the kitchen. 'Not in a rush to get to work today, are you?"

Ron shook his head, scooping some cold cereal into his mouth. "Dad'll be there early, I'll go half-day. Listen to this," he said after swallowing, ready to read from an open newspaper. "'When asked about the incredible increase in pay the Cannons have offered him, Harry Potter laughs off any implications of foul play. "I don't look at my pay until my agent shows me - he tells me what I make, he doesn't ask me how much I'd like to get. I'm just excited to be moving to the Cannons, I followed them with blind faith back in school."'" Ron looked scandalized. "Not only did he dislike them, but he doesn't even give credit to the person he's essentially pretending to be."

Hermione nodded in silent agreement as she whipped up a quick fruit salad. "Was he always flaky, Ron? Like, was he always like this, or did he just start after he ditched us and had no friends?"

"Now, now, 'Mione, don't silly," Ron said in a bitter and sarcastic tone, "he had his faithful and undying friends, Boot and Moon." He filled his mouth with more cereal. "He was such a geek, he had to go to Ravenclaw for friends."

Hermione didn't say anything, occupying herself with her salad. Living with Ron had taught Hermione a lot of things about the differences between them. Ron loved to incoherently ramble about the things that troubled him, while Hermione tended to keep it to herself.

"Herm? You okay?" Ron asked her.

Hermione nodded her head. "Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine. I just… Let's not talk about… him, okay?"

Ron nodded. Looking at the table and stirring his cereal, he spoke up tentatively. "Maybe we should do something tonight… Take our minds off of all of this…?" He trailed off.

Hermione held in a sigh as she rubbed her temples. Not again. "Ron, you know what I'm going to say. You're a great friend, but I just don't feel the same."

Ron continued to stir his breakfast. "I never said it'd be a date," he tried half-heartedly.

The pair finished their breakfasts in silence. Hermione sometimes had trouble believing the gall Ron had. Once in a while, Hermione could see why Ginny had warned her against moving in with her older brother. "He'll think you mean something or feel something that you don't, 'Mione," she had said. Hermione had disagreed, simply saying that Ron was her best friend apart from Ginny herself, and he knew that their relationship was a delicate contradiction: close, yet platonic. Ginny had just shaken her head, wishing her luck.

When she finished her breakfast, Hermione placed her bowl in the sink and left the room to find her shoes. When she re-entered, Ron had finished his breakfast as well, yet he was still sitting in his chair.

"Well, I'm off," she said briskly. "I'm done at five. Remember, your week for the dishes!"

Ron waved her off, intently reading the back of the Muggle cereal box. Hermione drew her wand, and with a loud pop that she couldn't hear, she Disapparated from the room. Two seconds later, she found herself standing in the middle of a dusty room filled with books.

"Who's there?" a voice from outside the room asked.

"It's me, Alika," called Hermione. Straightening out any mild creases in her periwinkle robe, she slipped out of the back room to the shop front of Flourish and Blotts.

"Right on time, as per usual, Hermione," said Alika, looking at the clock on the wall.

"Of course, of course," Hermione said absentmindedly, adjusting her nametag.

"I don't envy you today, Hermione," Alika quipped. "Pamelane called in sick, so you're working alone."

Hermione shrugged at the news. "At least it's the beginning of summer, and not the end. Besides," she continued, "it pales in comparison to what I've already found out today."

Alika seemed to understand right away. "Potter?" Hermione nodded. "I thought so. My husband was ecstatic. He was ready to celebrate, huge Cannons fans."

"Great," Hermione replied shortly.

Alika didn't press the conversation any further. She was a fairly brisk and strict lady, but still compassionate. "Well, I'm done in five minutes, so I'm going to let you get at it."

Alika disappeared into the back room as two elderly ladies entered the store. Fixing her smile, Hermione made her way over to the customers. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

The taller of the two ladies, sporting flowered robes and matching earrings, spoke for the couple. "Do you lot have books on Gobstone history?"

"Yes ma'am!" exclaimed Hermione, leading them towards a wall of sports books. "The whole left wall contains books on Gobstones, the table on the right has our bestsellers, and the cart behind it has books that are on sale. Did you say you were looking for history?" The shorter lady nodded this time. "Splendid. Well, the bottom row there is all history books. May I recommend, though, Gregory Gimney's Compalotory History on Gobstones? It's a bestseller, but this week it's one of a few books on Manager's Special - five Sickles off when you purchase another book form the same section!"

The ladies smiled. "Thank you, dearie," the taller women said. "We'll keep that in mind."

Hermione smiled. "I'll be up front if you have any questions. My name's Hermione if you need me," she finished, pointing to her nametag.

The ladies smiled at her again as Hermione turned to walk back to the front of the shop. Sitting herself on the stool behind the front desk, Hermione relaxed for the first time that day.

Hermione loved her job at Flourish and Blotts. She worked on a team of two other witches and one wizard. Working full time in the summer didn't bother Hermione in the least: the store was empty until late August, she loved her co-workers, and waking up early was good for her, anyway.

Many of the customers were frequent visitors: return customers who plainly loved to read. Reminded of herself when in school, Hermione watched and helped these people with fervour, keenly showing her knowledge of… everything. It was at Flourish and Blotts where she finally felt at one with people who understood her eagerness to read.

"Excuse me… Helen, was it?" The two ladies, weren't regular customers.

Hermione just smiled kindly. "Hermione. How can I help you?"

We've chosen," said the shorter lady (robes and hat of mauve and baby blue). She brandished four books: Gregory Gimney's Compalotory History on Gobstones, the Anecdotal Gobstone, Gobstones in the Muggle World, and Needlework Without a Wand.

"Perfect!" exclaimed Hermione, taking the books. "So, it'll be seven Sickles, eight Sickles and five Knuts, ten Sickles, and six Sickles and seven Knuts. Altogether, that's one Galleon, fourteen Sickles and twelve Knuts!

Money was exchanged, and Hermione packaged the books. "Thanks so much for shopping at Flourish and Blotts!"

The women smiled and said goodbye. "Our grandson will love these, thank you very much!" And with that, they left the store.

The day went by slowly but enjoyable for Hermione after that. There weren't many customers - there never was in the early summer months - and Hermione was very adamant on her "two bug" rule. She refused to ask people if they needed any help more than twice, knowing how annoying over-eager sales associates could be. And because a lot of customers seemed to know what they were doing, it left Hermione scads of extra time to finish her book, The Wand Exposed.

Hermione finally left the shop front when Edwund, the owner of the store, Apparated for the closing shift. She grabbed a couple of books from the back - employees were quite allowed - before settling in to Apparate back home.

A/N: I know, it's weird, but it'll work, trust me!

Parts of what Harry says in his interview are from the song "The Seeker" by the Who. I couldn't help but integrate into the story... When a song's called "The Seeker," it feels like it has to happen, you know? Please review, thanks so much!