A/N: a funny story written as a gift for my AO3 and Discord friend Kiromenanz who came up with the plot and then promptly forgot. XD

'Another brilliant save by Granger, keeping the Harpies ahead forty to ten. Spinnet has the quaffle, passes it to Bowman. Bowman dodges a bludger and passes to Everton. Everton veers right to dodge another bludger and, oh! Smith steals the quaffle and passes to Ruddidge. But what's this I see? Weasley and Martin are both flying toward the Cannons' hoops, folks. Have they spotted the snitch?'

Hermione Granger's surprising career in Quidditch had started like many other events in her life: she was goaded into it.

She had always played a bit of pick-up Quidditch with the Weasleys in their garden, but she was never overly keen of flying too high and had certainly never given the game much thought during her studies. But then came a year on the run — a year where survival and solving the last of Dumbledore's riddles were the only things that mattered — and when it was all over, she had found that her drive for school wasn't what it used to be. Instead, she found solace in zooming around the pitch with Ginny, the only person who seemed to really understand her as an individual and not an extension of Harry and Ron. Ginny decided not to go back to Hogwarts for her seventh year, preferring instead to pursue a career with the Holyhead Harpies, an all-witch team from Wales.

Hermione had been working a part-time job as a paper-pusher at the Ministry when Ginny dropped by during a lunch break (which Hermione was, of course, working through) to announce that she had decided that Hermione should be her personal Quidditch trainer for the next eight months. What neither of them had planned on was both witches getting picked up for the team. The rest, as they say, is history. A history that also grew to involve a curious friendship with a certain Severus Snape who had since been dragged to numerous quidditch matches, something he'd sworn off when he retired from teaching at Hogwarts. About a year after she'd left the Ministry, she'd noticed an article he'd penned on harvesting potions ingredients that could only be found in peat bogs and decided to owl a letter on the off-chance he might actually accept it and perhaps reply. Severus had been feeling benevolent (or bored, if he were so bold to admit it) and did write back, answering her query. When he ended his missive with a biting remark regarding the office career he'd imagined she'd embarked on, she wrote back, correcting him, stating she merely read academic journals to keep her mind sharp. It was then that she explained she'd gone on to play Quidditch professionally and preferred leaving the mindless Ministry grind to someone else — perhaps some day she'd consider a research job. After all, most Quidditch players retired at 35, leaving plenty of time for a second career. Curiosity got the best of Severus and shortly thereafter the two of them became fervent pen pals, ending only when he surprised her by showing up at a match against Ballycastle. He hadn't missed one since, though he didn't exactly watch them attentively.

A sharp elbow dug into Severus's side.

'Are you even watching?'

Lucius Malfoy, omnioculars taking in the scene before him, paused to give his friend a pointed look.

'It's the final match of the season. Can't you at least pretend to support your witch?'

'I'm here, aren't I?' he groused, not even looking up from the Potions Journal he had been marking up with a Biro. Lucius was a friend, but he was also annoying when he wanted to be.

'You have simply no appreciation for the finer things in life,' the blond wizard continued, turning his attention back to the game.

'Such as?'

'I believe the younger generation are calling them "broom thighs". But I suppose you would know all about those.'

Severus visibly bristled at the insinuation.

'Hermione and I are merely friends.'

'Does that mean I can invite her over for drinks after the game?'

'Granger blocks another goal!' the announcer shouted. 'Holyhead's Golden Girl has certainly earned her nickname this game!'

'I don't know why I allow you to come with me,' Severus commented, though his obsidian eyes flicked in the direction of the curly-haired keeper.

'Because Granger gave me two tickets and told me to make sure you made it to the match,' Lucius reminded him.

Severus grunted and glanced at the field a few moments longer, silently praying to the gods of Quidditch that Ginevra would catch the snitch so that the torture would end. Had this been for anyone but Hermione, he would have stayed home. Apparently his prayer worked.

'Weasley lunges into a steep dive. Martin reacts a moment too slow! And she's caught the snitch! Ginevra Weasley has caught the Snitch! The Harpies win one hundred-ninety to ten and advance to the quarter-finals!'

'Maybe I'll invite Everton over instead. Did you see how she… no, you didn't. Honestly, Severus, I don't know why you're even here.'

'I promised that I would come to the game. I didn't promise to pay the slightest bit of attention.'

Lucius rolled his eyes and packed up his omnioculars. 'Put away the damned journal, and let's go down to the field.'

Severus rose slowly, his knees stiff from sitting in the stands.

When they finally arrived down on the field, the Holyhead players were already surrounded by adoring fans waving photos and paraphernalia in hopes of scoring an autograph while lights continually flashed as photographers vied for the best shots.

'Severus!' came the loud squeak as Hermione fought her way through the throng.

'Did you watch any of the game at all?' she asked as she broke through the wall of fans, panting, sweat dotting her brow.

'The last five minutes,' he drawled.

'You old grump,' she laughed and wrapped her sweaty arms around his middle in a suffocating hug.

'Who are you calling old?' he snapped, trying to figure out how to pry her away from his person without attracting undo attention.

Snap, snap, snap went a camera somewhere.

His scowl deepened.

'I'm so glad you're here anyway!' she shouted over the roar of the ever-growing throng.

In spite of the crowd, the sweaty odour permeating the air, and the lies he'd been telling himself about the witch presently enveloping his mid-section, Severus was very pleased to be held, a fact which somewhat mitigated his stiff knees and sore bottom. (Cushioning charms can only do so much.) On the outside, his face was as impassive as ever.

'Severus, I'll see you tomorrow. No, make that Tuesday,' Lucius called over. He was, unsurprisingly, walking off the field with Samantha Everton on his arm. Today marked five years since Narcissa had left him. It seemed he was determined to drown out that memory with the aforementioned broom thighs.

"So where are we going to go?" Hermione chirped.

"You're going to shower and then we can go to that chippy you love."

Hermione squeaked with delight and gave him a final squeeze before running off to the locker room.

Ginny watched the exchange and gave Severus a knowing look. "You've got it bad, Snape."

"Mind your own business," he barked.

She chuckled and followed Hermione.

Severus edged away from the crowd to wait, his dour visage discouraging any attempts at friendly conversation.

"Ready?" Hermione inquired no more than ten minutes later. She slipped her arm through his as though it was something she did on the regular. Which she did.

He turned with a crack and apparated the two of them to an alley that smelled heavily of grease and fryers. They rounded the corner and strode up to the small building, ducking inside only long enough to order before regaining the cooler, somewhat cleaner air outside.

He looked her over as they waited for their order. Her damp curls were woven back into a thick braid which had left a wet patch on the back of her burnt sienna blouse. Her denim skirt was far shorter than he realised, giving him an enticing glimpse of what Lucius had been so good to point out earlier: broom thighs. It's true, she was fit. But that wasn't why he'd offered to take her out for greasy fish and chips for dinner. No, it was because she had persisted in breaking down his barriers, unconcerned by his prickly exterior, and the two of them had become friends. Friends. It was a nice word to apply to a nice girl. Which she was.

'So what did you read during today's match?'

She was also a cheeky witch.

He cast a muffliato as he pulled the potions journal from his jacket pocket and unfolded the cover for her to peruse as they stood outside off to the side. He'd gotten rather comfortable doing even more magic without a wand, which came in handy in Muggle environments.

'Godric, you'd think Lester would have given up the experiment by now." She rolled her eyes. It was one of things that made them friends.

'Wait until you read his article. It's the worst thing I've read since that numpty Kent tried to convince everyone that flobberworm slime is the missing ingredient in anti-wrinkle cream.'

She laughed and went back inside to fetch their meals, handing Severus his own newsprint-wrapped delight and a bottle of lemonade. The pair settled into a bench not far from the shop.

'I'm surprised you didn't want to go with Ginevra,' he commented as he sat his bottle next to him on the bench.

'I think she was going out with a couple of witches, and I'd rather be here,' she replied after eating a soggy chip.

'Eating out of greasy newsprint with an old grouch?'

'You're hardly old, Severus. And yes. This is nice.'

Nice. Yes, she was right: this was nice. And she was a nice girl, as he had already concluded earlier.

Salazar, he was beginning to hate that word.

'I saw that Lucius left with Samantha.'

'It's been five years today,' he explained simply, knowing she would understand.

'She won't mind helping him forget. She had her eye on him the last time he came with you. Is it true that he has a thing for witches who play quidditch?'

'He may have mentioned something about "broom thighs".' His cheeks warmed uncomfortably as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Luckily, Hermione found it highly amusing.

'Do you think I have "broom thighs", Severus?' she chortled.

'That would be rather inappropriate for me to notice, don't you think?'

'We're friends, Severus. You're allowed to notice things.'

No, he thought to himself. Noticing should be against the rules of nice-ness. It crossed a line somewhere.

He grunted and took a bite of his fish, the better to avoid saying anything he shouldn't.

'Why do you come to my matches if all you do is read?'

Of course she would ask another question. It took him a moment to finish chewing before he could reply.

'Because you insist that I'm there. Besides, I watched the last five minutes.'

'It means a lot to me that you're there,' she corrected.

He tried to say 'oh' but it came out more like 'mrrr'.

'You're my friend.'

As he well knew. He was forever friend-zoned, as the youth were saying these days. But if it were that or nothing, he was quite content staying in said zone. It was fine. He was fine.

'But would you like to know a secret?' she continued.

He wondered how she had already managed to eat more of her food than he. That was a safe secret worth uncovering.

'Was that a question or a statement?' he countered.

She laughed. It was a nice sound. A soothing sound. It took the edges off of his disgruntled-ness.

'I'll only tell you if you really want to know.'

'Go on. It's obvious that you want to and I wouldn't want you to explode. It would be messy, and the Aurors would try to find a way to blame me.'

'That's exactly why I like you, Severus,' she said, laughing again.

He didn't know how to take that remark, so he just didn't. In his mind, it was immediately stricken from the conversation.

'We could be more than friends if you'd like.'

So great was his shock that he accidentally squeezed his dinner. A few chips burst from the paper and fell to the ground. He stared at her, dumbfounded. It was possible he had misheard. He took another bite of fish. It seemed safest, even if it was a supremely awkward response.

'Though it's possible I've misread you,' she conceded a moment later and mirrored his actions as she took a bite.

He swallowed and washed it down with a drink from his glass bottle. He reasoned that he might as well own his growing feelings for her since she had already put hers out there.

'I'd like that,' he said at last.

'You mean it?' Her voice was soft, almost nervous. She licked sauce off her lip.

He found himself suddenly very drawn to the motion, as if at last giving himself permission to notice that part of her. He nodded and met her gaze. Should he kiss her? Did people do that sort of thing over fish and chips? He found that he truthfully didn't know, but he wanted to. He wanted to terribly. And so he did. He leaned over their respective greasy dinners and pressed a gentle kiss to those beautiful lips. As they broke apart a moment later, she gave him a smile that melted away his insecurities.

And then she leaned forward and whispered, 'Maybe later I'll show you my broom thighs.'

Severus accidentally squeezed the newsprint wrappings once more, and a chip fell out of the paper onto bare skin, just above her knee. She laughed. He raised an eyebrow, picked it up, and shoved the whole thing into his mouth.

A/N: As LunaP999 likes to say "Broom thighs save lives." And now it's not just Draco who is fit. LOL
I hope this story made you laugh!