The game didn't last long.

"Thank goodness," thought Hermione. One of the games she'd been to had lasted 39 hours 17 minutes and 42 seconds. However fond her feelings towards Krum were, she was not really prepared to sit and stare at a game she didn't really understand for that long again. Besides, her ass went to sleep after only a couple of hours.

11 goals later (8 to Bulgaria and 3 to the Isle of White) a huge roar went up all around Hermione and she knew this was her cue to stand up and clap. Krum was circling the stadium with an almost childish look of immense happiness on his face.

Despite her constant questioning, Hermione had never figured out why Krum had caught the snitch at the Quidditch World Cup, allowing Ireland to win. All he would ever say was,

"I didn't want to make you sad," which was stupid because he didn't even know of her existence then. Hermione had long since given up trying to wrangle the truth out of him. That hadn't stopped her friends though, on the rare occasion they met:

"So… Krum…" Ron had started. This had instantly sunk Hermione's heart lower than her dragon skin boots (a present from Krum's mother).

"Vat?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"Do vat?"

"You know what I'm talking about…"

"No reeelly, I do not. Vat are you talking about?"

It had been this point that Hermione had felt the urge to butt in to stop it getting ugly. She needn't have bothered:

"Ron, I really don't think this is the time…" commanded Hermione shrilly

"Shut up rabbit face," Ron had replied.

Unfortunately, Krum's grasp of English was small. His grasp of English humour (that is to say, friendly teasing and sarcasm) was much, much smaller. Infintesimatly small.

"Vat did you say?"

"I said 'why'd you do it Krum?'"

"You called Hermy-oh-ninny a bunny vabbit. Das ist NOT NICE" Krum had roared.

And that was why Ron's nose was now shaped the way it was. Hermione only hoped that her school and private lives would never have to mix again. There always seemed to be an alarming amount of blood involved when they did.

By now the players had returned to their changing rooms and everyone else was leaving. As Hermione stepped out of her aisle, Draco Malfoy walked straight into the back of her.

"Oh… oh… Draco… I'm dreadfully sorry… I um… didn't… um… see you there… hehe…" mumbled Hermione, suddenly overcome with a shyness that was not associated with her new personality. A shyness that she had certainly never felt before when she was talking to Malfoy. And why oh why did she have to call him Draco to his face?

Draco slicked back his hair involuntarily and smiled. Smiled. Why was he doing that? That wasn't like him at all!

"Erm.. quite alright Hermione… I mean.." "Damn…" he cursed softly under his breath, "Don't call me that Granger," Draco then attempted to stalk off haughtily. Unfortunately, he couldn't help looking back to see if Granger was still looking at him. Indeed she was. And it was as their eyes locked again that Draco heard,

"Draco! I mean… um… Malfoy."

"What?"

"Are you going to the after-game party? My… I mean our place"

"Yes. I believe father has something he wishes to discuss with Mr & Mrs Krum"

"Good."

And with that Hermione swept gracefully past him. Well, it would have been graceful had she not tripped herself up on the way down and knocked into someone else who managed to spill their drink all over a violently purple hat the woman in front happened to be wearing.

"Good?" thought Draco. What was that supposed to mean?