Part One: In which Harry can't believe Ron just said "defeat cake."
Disclaimer: Characters belong to JKR, don't sue me, pleaseokthanks.
The atmosphere in the Great Hall was peaceful as the students finished the remains of the Welcome Feast, and sleepy eyes and grins appeared as they sank into a well-fed stupor. The gentle murmuring was broken, however, when Madam Hooch stood and banged her golden goblet with a spoon.
"She's never made a speech at the welcome feast! I wonder what she wants?" Ron whispered to Harry.
"Shush." Harry didn't want to miss anything related to Quidditch, and Madam Hooch was beginning to speak.
"Harry, have you ever wondered if Madam Hooch lives up to her name" Ron asked, raising a suggestive eyebrow.
"Ron. Shut it!"
He tried to focus on Madam Hooch, but what Ron had said was now biting at the edges of his mind. Damn. He hated when Ron said things like that. Now he would never be able to look at Madam Hooch without wondering…
He must have looked slightly sick, because Hermione poked him in the side with suprising force. He looked up just in time to hear the end of her speech.
"—So all of those interested in trying out to be cheerleader for your house Quidditch team, please contact your head of house." Madame Hooch sat down amid a curious buzzing that had started at her words.
"Cheerleaders?" asked Hermione angrily, and her hair seemed to grow larger and crackle with electricity. She glared at Harry and Ron as though it were their fault.
"Cheerleaders," agreed Ron with a languid grin. Hermione glanced at him quickly, and her mouth set into a hard line to rival Professor McGonagall's.
"I just don't understand the point," said Harry, bewildered.
Ron stared at Harry in disbelief. "Please tell me that you're not complaining about a bunch of scantily clad chicks cheering us on as we serve the Slytherins a tasteful piece of defeat cake."
"Ron, did you just say 'defeat cake'?"
"Stop changing the subject."
"Ok, fine. To be truthful, I just don't feel that Quidditch Cheerleaders are going to … improve the performances of the guys on our team."
Ron grinned cheekily. "Exactly what kind of performance are you referring to?"
Harry groaned. This was going to be an interesting season. That is, if, by interesting, he meant "downright disastrous for the testosterone-filled male players of the Gryffindor Quidditch team."