The Quidditch Player
Chapter 4
Saturday, 22 July 2006
Hermione's first impression of the Burrow was that it was cozy. Standing in an open field hemmed by rolling hills, it looked as if it might've been a pigpen of sorts long ago. The hither and thither of extra rooms to accommodate the growing family only added to its tall stature so that it was crooked, leaning to the side similar to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. The half dozen chimneys perched on the roof were like the sharp claws of the dragons that Charlie wrangled in Romania. And the company of windows the Burrow employed most likely advertised killer views of the surrounding Devon terrain.
"What do you think?" Ginny asked, waving her arms towards the Burrow like an estate agent trying to sell Hermione a new home.
"I like it," Hermione said. "But don't you think it's a little small to hold a wedding?"
"That'll be out back," Ginny replied. They passed a tumbledown garage with trees that crowded its rear. "Mind the chickens," she instructed, as the front yard was run amok by fat brown ones.
"Do you plan on leaving these out for the wedding later?" Hermione asked, weary of one of the chickens that seemed to be eyeing her shoes beadily.
"Mum will probably have them shut away. The guests are supposed to arrive before sundown so there's a lot of time to care for these little buggers before then."
"Sundown?" Hermione repeated, addled. "It's barely nine in the morning! Not that I don't appreciate you inviting me to your brother's wedding, but why did you owl me so early for?"
Ginny sheepishly replied, "Because Ron is staying with Harry, Mum suggested Lavender and her maid of honour, Parvati, get ready here."
"And?" Hermione pressed.
"They're dreadful!" Ginny moaned rather dramatically, grabbing Hermione's arm and shaking it. "All they talk about is fashion! I might turn into a nutter if I have to spend an entire day with them!"
"Who says you have to?"
"Mum," Ginny sighed. "I tried slipping her How to Magically Grow More Vegetables, Square Foot Gardening for Magic Folk, and The Gardener's Guide to Magical Composting, books I picked up at Flourish and Blotts, but she shoved them away as if they had the Mumblemumps." Shaking her head, she said, "I'll be glad when this whole wedding is over with. It's like everyone's gone round the twist."
"Including yourself?"
"Definitely," she nodded. "But now that you're here, maybe it'll be enough to keep some of my sanity intact."
Hermione expected to go inside the Burrow and receive a private tour of the residence. Ginny, however, had other plans as she led her off to the side and towards the back garden. Rusted cauldrons and wellington boots manned the door, while bushes shook and shuddered as if they were alive. They were probably infested with gnomes. Thorns were tangled within the weeds, skirting a pond where frogs hopped atop lily pads as if they were participants in an aerobics routine. To complete the picture, gnarled trees stood all around like foreboding watchtowers.
"Ron and Lavender are getting married here?"
"Not quite," Ginny shook her head. "The orchard is where that'll happen," pointing to a congregation of trees assembled on the shores of a small lake. "Later on, Ron and Lavender will declare their undying love for each other and run off to have children of their own," she said, gagging.
"Children already?" Hermione questioned, horrified by the thought of having children so young. "Surely they'll wait!"
"Doubt it," Ginny shuddered. "Mum's all but shouted in their faces that she wants more grandchildren. It should go without saying that she's hinted for the rest of us to get a move on. Charlie, Percy, and George are next in line."
"Then there's you, right?"
"Me," Ginny confirmed. "And I'd like to stay that way."
"You don't want to get married?"
"Sure, I do," she replied. "But long after I finish with the Holyhead Harpies. Mum isn't too happy about that, thinking that having a family is much more rewarding than playing Quidditch."
"Everyone's different," Hermione thought to offer.
"Try telling her that," Ginny said, swishing her long red hair over her shoulder prettily. "Whenever she sees me, she somehow manages to work in the usual rubbish like a good husband with many children. It's suffocating really, though Charlie's had it much worse."
"What's that?" a deep voice asked.
Hermione glanced over and saw, who she presumed to be Charlie, coming out the back door and walking over to them. She was surprised to notice that he was rather short, though what he lacked in height he certainly made up for in strength. His arms were as thick as tree trunks, so much that Hermione wouldn't be surprised if his black T-shirt ripped along the seams because of his bulging biceps. His jeans were dirtied and worn, but she believed that he would've looked out of sorts if they weren't. His red hair was cropped close to his head, while his sapphire blue eyes were the like the deepest wells of the ocean. Charlie Weasley was handsome, that much was for sure, but not as much as a certain someone.
"What're you on about?" he asked Ginny.
"What's it to you?"
"Just curious," he shrugged. Turning towards Hermione, he stuck out his hand and said, "Charlie Weasley."
"Hermione Granger," she greeted, his calloused hand enveloping hers completely.
"You mind telling me why she's so hysterical?"
"Hysterical?" Ginny repeated hysterically, hands on her hips.
"Apparently, your mum is advocating for a house full of grandchildren in the near future."
Charlie grunted, "If she had it her way, the Burrow would be brimming with those screaming little sprogs blowing snot out of their noses and bogeys all over us."
"There's a pleasant thought," Ginny said humourlessly. "You come up with that on your own?"
"That's not for me," he said, ignoring his sister.
"You don't to have any children?" Hermione asked.
"Definitely not," he shook his head.
"Don't mind him," Ginny interjected. "He'll die under the wings of one of his dragons."
"Couldn't think of a better death!" he stated proudly, puffing out his chest. He reminded Hermione of one of the girls doing the same to Harry in Diagon Alley when he signed their Quidditch posters, her breasts jiggling and wiggling like jelly.
"You ever think about seeing a psychiatrist at St Mungo's?" Ginny asked. "You could do with one, you know."
"I could do with one? Please," he waved his hand in the air. "It was just this morning that you were ranting like a headless numpty about how those birds in your room were driving you mad."
"How about you spend the day with them then? I'd love to see how you'd fare!"
Charlie rolled his eyes and said, "Go away. Mum wants me to clean up the garden before the wedding."
"Oh, you're actually going to do some work around here?" Ginny asked, feigning surprise.
"I happen to have a job."
"And playing professional Quidditch isn't?"
"You still live here," Charlie pointed out.
"So? I'm away for weeks at a time during the regular season."
"Doesn't make a difference," he said. "You could still put in a bit of effort around the place."
"What does it take? A simple spell that'll get rid of everything?"
"Pretty much," Charlie nodded. "It's so easy that even you could do it."
Ginny huffed, grabbing Hermione's arm and practically dragging her away.
"Be careful with that one, Hermione!" Charlie called after them.
As they went over to the lake, Hermione asked, "Charlie's on a losing streak, is he?"
"What does that mean?" Ginny asked, looking over at her curiously.
"Harry told me that you tend to alternate between Bill and Charlie as your favourite brother."
"When was this?"
"Monday," Hermione answered. "I stopped by his place for a bit."
"Were you invited?" Hermione only shook her head. "Wait a minute, how do you know where he lives?"
"He told me," Hermione replied. "He was actually pretty interested that we both live in Godric's Hollow."
"I thought you took a flat in London. Crouch End, was it?"
"That's where my parents live," Hermione corrected. "I decided on Godric's Hollow."
"You guys are neighbours, aren't you?" Ginny asked, her face lighting up like Guy Fawkes Night, bonfires and fireworks included.
"No," Hermione said. "We're quite a distance away from each other."
"I take it that you kept up your camaraderie from Diagon Alley?"
"Camaraderie?" Hermione repeated, laughing. Above them, the sun blazed furiously. When they reached the lake, they sat on the embankment and slipped off their shoes to drown their feet in the water. "He took me to Flourish and Blotts, shopping around for nothing in particular."
"That was thoughtful of him," Ginny said.
"Better than what happened in France," Hermione agreed.
"You didn't like it over there?"
"It's just that I faced a lot of prejudice for being Muggle-Born," she said. "Even though I could do magic, I was treated like an outsider. Because of that, I felt like I had to prove myself at Beauxbatons and the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France. It was insulting, being tended to like a child. And those that didn't treat me like that weren't even sincere about it. To them, I was a joke. I managed to ignore it for the most part, thinking that one day it would die down."
"Did it?" Ginny asked.
"A little," Hermione said. "But it was always still there, hanging over me in a way."
"Is that why you left?"
"No, I wanted to come back. It was just a matter of when that was going to be."
"Why did you move to France in the first place?"
"Mum's parents were very ill, and they didn't have a lot of time left. The move was never supposed to be permanent. But one thing led to another, and my parents were in the process of opening their own dental practice-,"
"What?" Ginny asked, confused.
"It means that they tend to people's teeth," Hermione explained.
"That sounds horrible!"
"It's not everyone's cup of tea," she said. "Nevertheless, my parents fell in love with France and wanted to stay. I did too. Mind you, I didn't know about magic at the time."
"How old were you?"
"Seven," Hermione answered, thinking a little. "We left a couple of years before I would've received my Hogwarts letter."
Ginny began braiding her hair as she asked, "What about the Book of Admittance?"
"The what?"
"It's a book at Hogwarts that records the name of every magical child born in the United Kingdom. I'd imagine your name was written down as well. Makes me wonder what happened when you went to France. Does Beauxbatons have something similar?"
Hermione remembered the library of books that she purchased from Place Cachée about Beauxbatons after she received her letter, wanting to know every little detail about where she would be studying for the next seven years. She also wanted to placate her parents given that they weren't completely confident in having Hermione learn about magic as opposed to learning in a more traditional sense. However, she couldn't recall Beauxbatons having any such Book of Admittance like Hogwarts.
"I don't think so," Hermione said. "It doesn't ring a bell."
Ginny, continuing to play with her hair, said, "At least you came back as good of a time as any."
"You mean the war?"
"And after the war, especially as it pertains to Harry."
"Meaning?"
"He was very moody at Hogwarts," Ginny said. "Not that I blame him, of course, with Voldemort trying to do him in every chance he got. Naturally, he was bound to sulk around." She waved her wand, conjuring a towel for her to lie down on. Pillowing her hands behind her head, Ginny seemed as if she didn't have any intention to spend the day with Lavender and Parvati per her mother's request that she do.
"He changed?"
Popping open an eyelid, she said, "You've seen him since."
"But I didn't know him before."
"Harry changed," Ginny confirmed. "And if you ask me, it was for the better. He did away with being so gloomy all the time and finally managed to lighten up. It made it more tolerable to be around him. Not to mention, he's a lot more friendly and welcoming."
"You mean like decorating my office?" Hermione scoffed.
"Did he really?" Ginny asked, sounding interested. "All on his own?"
"Trust me, I think my office was fine the way it was. Perfect, even."
"If you want my opinion, it was a little dull. That window of yours is the only thing interesting about it. What's it of again?"
"Place Cachée," Hermione said. "It's similar to Diagon Alley, only that it's in France. Paris, to be more specific."
"What did Harry do? Let's hear it."
"A wall full of Quidditch posters. I'm pretty sure that every player in the British and Irish Quidditch League is there, including Harry's, egomaniacal as it was."
"Mine too?" Ginny sat up, excited.
Hermione pursed her lips at Ginny's lack of understanding why her office renovation was completely unnecessary.
"I assume you're there," Hermione said dully.
"What am I doing in my Quidditch poster?" she asked, cheeks flushed red. "I remember taking a couple of pictures doing some of this and that, but I'm not sure which one he chose to go with." Without waiting for an answer, she rambled, "I don't believe he'd go with the one where I'm performing the Dionysus Dive. The wind was horrid then, and I'm pretty sure I ended up with too much hair in my mouth. The Spiral Dive is another contender, but I was flying so fast that the camera couldn't keep up with me. Idiots, I tell you! There was the one when I was doing the Wronski Feint, but the colour was a bit off and really-,"
"Actually," Hermione interrupted loudly, for Ginny seemed to be on the cusp of doing away with Ron and Lavender's wedding entirely to instead pen a novel on which of her Quidditch posters she liked and didn't, "I don't really remember. There were just so many to look at. It was a maze trying to find Harry's even."
"Speaking of Harry, what was his poster of?"
"Oh," she suddenly flushed, suddenly feeling hot. "He's having it out with a bit of fitness." And fitness never looked so good, did it? Not with Harry's sweat diving off his stout and sturdy nipples as he did pull-ups.
Ginny thought about this for a second, ignoring the way her hair twirled around her shoulder because of the wind, and said, "I don't know about that one."
"You've seen all of his Quidditch posters, have you?"
"I thought so," Ginny said. "Must be a new one of his."
Hermione remembered how Harry's Quidditch poster in her office was different from the Quidditch posters he signed for the girls in Diagon Alley. Maybe it was a new edition like Ginny said, not yet available for sale. Or perhaps it was put on hold until after England won the Quidditch World Cup, in which sales of Quidditch posters for the English National Quidditch team would undoubtedly surge. From the rumours she heard in the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, England was favoured over Bulgaria heading into the Quidditch World Cup, something that Mr Bagman was positively delighted by. This reminded her of another issue that she meant to bring up.
"What do you think about the British and Irish Quidditch League Complex?" Hermione asked.
Ginny snorted loudly, and a bird departed from a nearby tree.
"It's needed, terribly too. But funding's an issue, isn't it? That's the story, anyway."
"It's the only thing stopping the British and Irish Quidditch League from being approved," Hermione said.
"That can't be it!" Ginny groaned, throwing her hands in the air like a maniacal octopus. "There has to be some other way to fund the British and Irish Quidditch League Complex! It's our livelihood, for fuck's sake! If other teams want to remain as viable competitors, having separate pitches to practice makes the most sense, doesn't it?"
"I agree," Hermione said, hoping Ginny would calm down, discerning that her temper was a drop away from overflowing. "But I think I might have thought of something to help."
Ginny whipped her head to look at Hermione so fast that she was surprised Ginny's neck hadn't complained of whiplash.
"What is it?" she asked, eager.
"I was thinking that the British and Irish Quidditch League could host a gala."
Unlike Harry who didn't know what a gala was, Ginny, on the other hand, had stars in her eyes.
"That could work! she exclaimed, smiling. "Assuming a good amount of people are willing to attend, it wouldn't take too much to get everything done and over with!" Ginny was in a bit of a daze, her face glossing over like a wax figure. "Any idea when it's going to take place?"
"The gala has yet to be approved," Hermione said. "Mr Bagman and I plan to appeal to the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports on Monday. It'll be up to Mr Stump to decide whether the gala is a good idea or not."
"He'd be a fool otherwise," Ginny said bitterly. "The British and Irish Quidditch League has complained long enough that the current design is absolute rubbish. And still there hasn't been any action taken to do anything about it. The Ministry of Magic is full of cunts."
"The Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France isn't much better."
As Ginny muttered her agreement, Hermione's thoughts circled back around to what Harry would look like in dress robes for the gala. She didn't know why she was so fixated on this and considered the fact that there was something about a man in a suit that commanded her attention. It was like gravity. An attraction, pull, seduction. That was why she was excited for Ron and Lavender's wedding later. Harry would be there, and he'd certainly don dress robes for the occasion. After all, it was a wedding! She didn't believe it was shallow to mentally salivate over Harry. As it was, mentally salivating over Harry was something that was perfectly normal because it wasn't only men that had needs, women did too. If all that came out of this were fantasies, then Hermione would be perfectly okay with them. Honestly, Harry wouldn't be attracted to someone like her, would he?
A call from behind them had Hermione glance over her shoulder. She saw movement through an open window of the Burrow, in which people gathered around the kitchen table inside.
"Think we should go in?" Hermione asked.
"Only if you're hungry," Ginny answered. "Mum's made a spot of breakfast."
Hermione wasn't a fan of breakfast, even though her parents told her it was the most important meal of the day. She simply didn't care for it, similar to how she didn't care of dinner, and wagered she never would.
"Don't you think it's rude to stay out here until the wedding?"
"Not really," Ginny replied. "There's no doubt that spending just a couple of minutes with Lavender and Parvati would make me want to put my head through the wall. Before you came, Lavender was complaining that her dress was making her bottom appear smaller than it actually was, while Parvati was criticising how my hair didn't match anything in my room," she rolled her eyes. "I guess it goes without saying that working for Witch Weekly limits intelligent dialogue."
"Witch Weekly?" Hermione repeated.
"It's some silly magazine with articles, quizzes, advice columns, quizzes, and recipes. They also have an entire section dedicated to the most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, not that that means anything being most of those subscribed to Witch Weekly are underage. It was popular at Hogwarts."
"It sounds ridiculous."
"Definitely," Ginny agreed. "Their best-selling edition was about some slapper that claimed Harry fathered a child with her. It wasn't true or anything, but he admitted to sleeping with her a couple of times because of everyone pestering him about it."
"Really?" Hermione asked, trying to sound disinterested. Despite this, she was interested, immensely so, and figured that it was because, in her own way, she was interested in Harry. How far did that interest go? She didn't know. But she was going to find out.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.