The
next morning when she'd succeeded in waking up late, dashing into
clothes and hurrying downstairs into the Great Hall for breakfast,
Hermione was thoroughly excited about the Quidditch match.
She
couldn't wait to see the game played – and hopefully won.
Hermione entered the Great Hall amidst the normal buzz and
chatter of students, peering around to see if Fred was already there,
and at the same time keeping an eye out for her two best friends, who
were also on the Quidditch team and would have something to do with
the game.
"I
still can't believe you let that bludger get her, mate..."
"Hey.
I didn't /let/ it get her."
"I know, I know, but
still..."
Fred snorted, shaking his head as his brother
disguised his laughter by cramming a piece of toast into his mouth.
He hadn't told George about what happened yesterday, but somehow or
another his twin had found out, and had already begun teasing him
about it. He didn't really mind, actually - a snickering, jibing
George was much more sufferable than a slightly jealous, surly
George.
As he had planned, Fred had woken up at the bloody
crack of dawn, but hadn't exactly done much with his time except fret
a bit and suffer the rallying presence of Angelina and the rest of
his team-mates.
George nudged him, prompting him to look up
when Hermione stepped into the Great Hall. He grinned, and raised a
hand to wave to her.
"Hey, Hermione!"
Hermione spotted the
hand Fred had waved and walked briskly over, keeping her bag on her
shoulder. She scooted in beside him and pulled a piece of toast
towards her, buttering it immediately and flashing him and his
brother a smile. "Hey Fred, - George. - Excited about the game? - I
certainly am."
She took a bite and let her bag sit beside on the
bench. No matter what, except for in extreme situations when she was
very excited or very stressed, Hermione always kept her cool. She had
this aura about her that made people feel like she was very confident
and content in herself – even if she wasn't on the inside so
much.
"'Course
I am," Fred replied with a grin, moving over and bumping George
down a space to make room for her. "I can't wait. It's going to
feel good, crushing Slytherin this year..."
He didn't
elaborate /why/. But it seemed that a certain member of the Slytherin
Quidditch team had been successfully getting on his nerves lately,
and he was eager to see the look on his face when Slytherin was
massacred. Again.
"Doesn't it always feel good, though?"
George asked curiously, arching an eyebrow at his twin.
He
shrugged, and then leaned back to get a look at Hermione from behind
his brother. "Say, have you seen Ron about yet? I wanted to talk
to him before the game, but he's made himself scarce this morning."
Hermione shook her head and finished off the toast. Goodness she was hungry. Perhaps it was just nervousness, but she certainly felt different about this game than all the previous ones.
"No
I haven't seen Ron actually." She replied, deciding to say
something audible in case George hadn't heard her.
"But they
should – oh," She stopped when she spotted none other than her
two best friends enter the hall, one looking haunted and one
grinning.
"Look – there she is." Harry said to Ron, who for
some reason moaned when he saw Hermione.
As the two passed the
Slytherin table there was an upsurge of noise; Harry looked around
and saw that nearly every student at the table was wearing small,
silver, crown-shaped badges. Some waved at Ron with hoots of laughter
and Harry knew that they were up to no good.
"I must've been mental to do this," Ron said in a croaky whisper as they sat down on Hermione's right, Ron closest to her and Harry two seats away.
"/Mental/.
- Oh and Hermione," He gulped and turned away from the food that
didn't look very appetizing to face his brown-haired friend. "–
There is – er – something I need to tell you."
Hermione had
scowled when Ron claimed fear for his sanity, but then looked
confused. "Yes - Ron?"
"I borrowed your library copy of
Quidditch through the ages, looking for tips to help me during the
game – and I – er, accidentally broke the binder."
Hermione
blinked and tried not to show disappointment after thinking of the
prospect of turning in a broken book on her clean record. "Oh –
that's, alright Ron." She said quickly. Ron had set his forehead
on the wooden table in front of them. "Don't worry about it. We
can just tell Madam Pince about what happened. She'll understand. –
I think."
Madam Pince was very strict and therefore Hermione
couldn't say whether she actually would forgive them or not.
"But
Ron, now, don't be thick," said Harry firmly, trying to show him
a choice of cereals. "You're going to be fine. It's normal to
be nervous. That's just what you're going through..."
"I'm
rubbish," Ron croaked into the table. "I'm lousy. I can't
play to save my life. What was I thinking?"
"Get a grip,"
said Harry sternly. "Look at that save you made with your foot the
other day, even Fred and George said it was brilliant."
Fred
gazed at his brother wordlessly for a moment or so. Oddly enough, he
wasn't feeling so annoyed with him as he had been of late. He was too
excited about the Quidditch game, and Ron /was/ in a rather pathetic
state of mind at the moment - very deserving of his pity. He smirked,
remembering said move that Harry spoke of. That had been a rather
interesting save.
"Yeah, that was wicked cool Ron,"
he offered. "You'll do fine."
Or, at least, he hoped
so. He had forgotten about Ron's - er - lack of skill... ah well.
They had Harry. As long as he got the snitch before Malfoy, then they
had nothing to worry about. He glanced at what was left of his
breakfast - a few spoonfuls of cereal and some toast - but wasn't
very hungry. It wasn't that he was nervous, of course - he was never
nervous. But he was really eager to start whacking bludgers at those
flying slime-balls otherwise known as Slytherins and knocking them
off their brooms.
Oh well. At least Fred never even pretended
to repress violent tendencies.
Ron
looked up with a tortured face. "That was an accident," He moaned
miserably. "I didn't mean to do it – I slipped off my broom
when none of you were looking and I was trying to get back on and I
kicked the Quaffle by accident."
Hermione grimaced and Harry
blinked, trying to recover from this unpleasant surprise. "Well. A
few more accidents like that and the game's in the bag, isn't
it?"
Hermione had the strong urge to giggle, but decided against
it since it would probably hurt Ron's feelings. She wondered how
the twins would take it.
Fred
stared blankly at his brother for a moment or two, almost as if he
hadn't comprehended a word of what he had just said. He heard George
groan. Finally he gave a snort of laughter and shook his head. Oddly
enough, he found this more amusing than he did disappointing. How
/was/ it that Ron could possibly be so poor at Quidditch, when
basically everyone else in their family (with the exception of Percy,
of course) had at least a bit of skill?
"Ron," he
declared in an amusing tone. "You're priceless."
He
looked sidelong at Harry, smirking.
"It's up to you then,
mate. If you don't catch that snitch, we're done for."
"Yeah,"
Harry grinned as Hermione dove into her bag and withdrew her
Gryffindor scarf, gloves, and a few rosettes. "Ron, it's a good
sign, I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit
nervous," She said to him heartily, attaching two of the rosettes
to her robes and turning to Fred to pin one on him.
Just then
Luna Lovegood walked by with a giant lion hat perched on top of her
head and Hermione made a small noise in the back of her throat as she
adjusted the rosette on Fred.
"Oh for goodness sake..."
Fred
raised an eyebrow bemusedly, eyeing the rosette that was being
attached to his robes. He was about to comment about it when he was
interrupted by her disapproving ... noise. He grinned, and turned his
head to see Luna and her extraordinary hat. Of course, he thought it
rather cool, but was completely aware of what Hermione's opinion of
it was.
"Rather nifty thing, that," he commented
innocently. "Would you like one of those for Christmas,
Hermione?"
He turned back to the brown-eyed girl, his eyes
sparkling mischievously.
But
Ron's face had returned to the table again and she gave up with a
sigh. "I'm supporting Gryffindor," She heard Luna say to Harry.
"Look what it does. . . ."
The lion on her head gave a great
roar and Hermione jumped quickly, like many of the other students in
the hall.
"It's good, isn't it?" The blonde said happily
in her misty voice.
"Positively wonderful," Hermione
muttered.
"– I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to
represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway . . .
good luck, Ronald!" She drifted away.
Intellectual
book indeed. Hermione knew him far too well.
"Touché,
Hermione," he replied, nodding approvingly.
Hearing Miss
Lovegood's last words, Fred snorted. His narrowed eyes followed the
Ravenclaw as she wandered away.
"Oy, what about me? I'm
going to be playing today, too, you know..."
His muttered
words weren't really loud enough to reach her. He shook his head,
finding it amazing that one of his brother's strongest supporters was
going to be Loony Luna.
"Don't worry Fred – she doesn't matter." Hermione said briskly, putting on her gloves and pulling back some of her hair. "You don't need her, - you have /me/ supporting you." She gave him a slightly mischievous smile as she began to adjust the rosette and robes of his again.
Suddenly Angelina, Katie, and Alicia – the three Chasers on the Gryffindor Quidditch team – came up to where Harry, Ron, Fred and George were and the Captain said, "When you're ready, we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change."
"We'll be there in a bit," Harry told her, watching as Ron clutched his stomach and moaned. "Ron's just got to have some breakfast."
Angelina nodded and the three girls left.
Fred
nodded vaguely in Angelina's direction - the chasers were already
walking off, anyway. George, though, leaped up right away and bounded
after them. Fred chuckled, catching Hermione's hands and holding them
fast away from both robes and rosette. He leaned closer to her,
grinning.
"Oh, I know that," he said quietly. "And
you're better than six Luna's with their lion hats all in a row."
He
arched an eyebrow at her, narrowing his eyes a bit, though not in an
unfriendly way.
"Mind if I have a good-luck kiss, then?"
he ventured hopefully.
He didn't really care that they were in
the middle of the Great Hall, and most of the students would probably
have their eyes on the Gryffindor Quidditch team anyway. But he was
polite enough to ask, at least.
"Only
if it'll give you good luck, Fred..." Hermione replied, eyes
dancing and stomach squirming. She still couldn't get over the
surreal-ness of it all.
Ron's ear twitched as he heard the word
kiss, and he shot straight up, turning to stare avidly at his best
friend and brother. His face remained white, and of course – he was
still nervous and sick as hell - but he was still shocked. That was
an odd phrase to come out of Fred's mouth to Hermione, even if he
knew that they were an item. Last he had seen his brother would be
likely to be saying, "Come on now, Hermione – testing the sweets
out is perfectly fine with the students!" – Certainly not asking
for a good luck kiss.
And
did he mean good luck kiss on the cheek... or lips?!
Harry smirked
to himself, half glad that Ron's mind was off the subject of
Quidditch for a brief moment.
His
brother's abrupt movements had caught Fred's eye. He had almost
forgotten that Ron was there at all. His eyes flittered away from
Hermione for a moment, taking in his brother's absolutely shocked
expression. He smirked, but decided that it would be best to ignore
him just for now. It would be better, after all, for him to have
something else other than Quidditch to focus on for the present. He
turned back to Hermione, his smirk replaced by a completely sincere
smile.
"Of course it will," he said with
conviction.
At the moment he was almost sure that it would,
actually. He always felt even more light-hearted than usual when he
was with her, and was certain that a kiss would have him bash the
bludger through the heads of the Slytherins - 'specially Draco. He
leaned in to kiss the brown-eyed girl.
But for the second time since she had fallen for Fred, Hermione did not kiss him back. She slid a finger up between their faces and pressed it to his lips with a small smile. "I think Ron has enough on his mind to worry about – so let's not add something else that will probably disturb him," She said very quietly, so only he could hear. "We can..." She smirked inwardly to herself at the oddity of what she was about to say, and laughed softly. "... we can continue the good-luck kiss later after you've won, alright? Consider it incentive to win. - Or you might not get your wish..."
The
Weasley twin lifted his eyebrows in surprise. He was not exactly sure
whether to feel frustrated, annoyed, amused or mildly impressed. He
would never have thought Hermione was possible of doing and saying
such things. It was amazing that he was able to learn more about her
personality the longer he stuck around her.
He eyed his
brother begrudgingly. She was probably right. Not that he would say
it, but Ron had probably seen enough to keep him distracted, and he
didn't want his brother angry with him during the game, after all. He
shook his head, mock-scowling at her as he pulled back a bit.
"You
are... you are..." he shook his head, unable to hold back his
grin. "I'm going to hold you to that, Hermione."
He
squeezed the hand that he still held once, and then stood up, ready
to go after George and the rest of the team.
"See you in
a bit then, Ron."
Hermione suppressed a laugh and smiled a little distantly at Fred. He sure could be cute when he wanted to.
"I'll
look forward to it." She said to him, standing up and watching
Ginny approach them out of the corner of her eye, knowing that she
would want to walk to the game with her. "That's for sure."
Ron turned back to face his untouched food, and Harry blinked,
not knowing what to make of the matter. He settled for trying to
convince Ron to eat some more, before watching Hermione and Ginny
take off for the pitch, (Hermione waving a coy smile at Fred and a
normal wave to Ron and Harry) and turning back to face his tortured
friend.
The game in the sky was just as brutal and menacing as ever – with the added pain of poor Ron, who was getting highly discouraged when the Slytherin's in the crowd began to sing a most annoying song.
When Hermione heard it, her eyes narrowed so she looked positively hawk-like and she muttered, "Oh you twisted, foul, evil little bugs..."
Weasley
is our King
Weasley is our King
He always let's the Quaffle
in,
Weasley is our King
Harry was so angry in mid-air, that
he abandoned his search for the snitch and glared at the mass of
green and silver, which continued to sing.
Weasley cannot save
a thing,
He cannot block a singe ring,
That's
why all the Slytherin's sing:
Weasley is our King.
Hermione
blew some air out of her mouth and shook her head, positively shaking
with rage. This was not good – Ron was going to get dis-heartened
and allow more goals in, all because they were singing that rotten
song...
" – so it's the first test for new Gryffindor
Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising
new talent on the team – come on Ron!"
But the scream of
delight came from the Slytherin end: Ron had let the Quaffle
in.
After a very angry and distracted game came near an end,
Harry caught the Snitch and won the game, hoping that this would
cheer Ron up some-what, but the red-headed Keeper slid off his broom
and exited the pitch the opposite way, looking sullen and depressed.
Hermione saw the snitch get caught, laughed out-loud and began to make her way down through the crowd of people towards the pitch to see everyone.
Fred
had never been so infuriated during a game in all of his life.
That... that /song/... only a Slytherin could have sunk so low. For
once, he pitied Ron thoroughly, and was angry on his behalf. If he
had been in his shoes, he had no idea what he would have done, but he
had a hunch that it wouldn't have been very pretty. He was sorely
tempted once or twice to pull off a few illegal moves - like
pretending that he had mistaken one of the Slytherin Chasers' heads
as a bludger - but he decided against it, muttering curses under his
breath as he played instead and sending the occasional anxious look
at Ron.
As soon as the game was over, his anger faded,
replaced at once by overpowering relief and elation - they had won!
Harry caught the snitch - Ron was off the hook, and the Slytherins
could sing themselves hoarse. They were nothing more than bags of hot
air that would be dealt with soon enough. He dismounted along with
the rest of his team, laughing and whooping uproariously along with
everyone else. He couldn't wait to catch up with Hermione. Not only
would he get that kiss he wanted, but he would finally figure out
what the bloody hell that letter was about.
He didn't even
notice Ron's departure, as he went about congratulating and pounding
the backs of everyone within reach. He was in a sort-of happy,
adrenaline and victory-induced haze. Grinning from ear to ear, Fred
moved forward, pushing past Angelina in order to shake Harry's hand,
George in tow.
"Saved
Weasley's neck, haven't you?" Came Malfoy's sneering voice
over the roar of the crowds. "I've never seen a worse Keeper . .
. but he was /born in a bin/. . . . Did you like my lyrics,
Potter?"
Hermione was nearly there – down the steps and
fighting through the crowd – she saw the Gryffindor team all
together near the center of the pitch.
"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Malfoy called, as Katie and Alicia hugged Harry. "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly –– we wanted to sing about his mother, see ––"
"Talk about sour grapes," said Angelina.
Harry was ignoring Malfoy, completely disgusted by his behavior. Sour grapes indeed, he was acting like an idiot. He turned to Fred, who was coming to shake his hand and pumped it up and down vigorously with a grin on his face.
"–– we couldn't fit in useless loser either –– for his father, you know ––" Draco was saying.
At first, Fred had not even heard the Slytherin seeker's jibes. As a matter of fact, he had forgotten about the stupid prat altogether. But when the words pertaining to his father fell onto his ears, the Weasley realized what was being said. Immediately the good mood vanished. He stiffened, mid-hand-shake. He turned around slowly, looking at Malfoy with a thoroughly hostile glint in his eyes. He was vaguely aware of Angelina seizing his arm. He knew very well that she spoke the troth - the slick-haired seeker was speaking only out of spite, and all he wanted was to goad them on - but how /dare/ he? Everything he hated about the Malfoy was brought to the surface, and he wanted nothing more than to pound Draco's face in until he was unrecognizable. He didn't, though. He let Angelina hold him back. He had to restrain himself, or he'd be playing right into his hands...
"–– but you like the Weasleys, don't you Potter? Said Malfoy, sneering. "Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't se how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay ––"
Hermione finally reached the snow-covered grounds of the pitch and saw Malfoy calling after them as they all huddled together over the noise of the crowds, and Angelina grabbing Fred's arm. Her smile faded.
Then she saw Ron walking away on the opposite end of the pitch and frowned, feeling the sudden weight of sympathy on top of annoyance at Malfoy.
With a sigh, she began to walk towards the group of people in the middle of huge pitch all celebrating the win of Gryffindor.
Harry
grabbed hold of George to stop him going towards Malfoy.
Hermione
too, realized what Malfoy was saying and her eyes narrowed.
"Or
perhaps," said Malfoy, leering as he backed away. "you can
remember what /your/ mother's house stank like, Potter, and
Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it ––"
That
was it. That was the last straw. That son of a serpent was going to
die, and Fred was going to be more than happy kill him. What
right had he to insult his family like that? To insult Harry's
mother? To stalk Hermione when she went with him to the Quidditch
pitch? To send her suspicious letters? And most importantly, to hex
her! To hurt her like that for the rest of her life...! That put him
far past being an insufferable git who was sore about losing. He was
sure that there weren't any words in any languages that could
describe Draco Malfoy. And he did all this because he was proud about
being pure-blooded. Well, Fred was willing to debate that one to the
mat. He was absolutely certain that the blood that ran in his veins
was as black as the venom in his words, and there was nothing "pure"
about it.
Incensed to near-madness by the insults on top of
all of this, he decided that he would take out his revenge on him
there and then. With a roar of outrage, Fred yanked himself away from
Angelina, flinging all of his weight in the direction of the
loathsome creature. He imagined hitting him as hard as he could, as
many times as he could. He would certainly find out what color his
blood was then. Then he changed his mind, and imagined himself
wringing his scrawny little throat instead...
But
he had hardly gotten a step forward when all three chasers fell on
him, grabbing him and pulling him back with all of their might.
Shouting in indignation, he tried to wrestle himself out of their
hold, but it was no use. Female though they might be, they were not
lacking in strength.
"Gerroffame!" he howled,
violently struggling against Angelina, Katie and Alicia, feeling a
sort of panic as he saw his twin and Harry launch themselves at Draco
in front of him. "Get OFF! I'm going to effing kill
him!!"
Sure enough, Hermione's eyes widened as she saw Fred lunge toward Draco but almost immediately he was restrained - and she relaxed.
Not
for long though, as her eyes caught Harry and George pelting towards
Draco and bowl him down onto the ground only to begin socking him in
the stomach and face.
"Harry! GEORGE! NO!" She heard someone
shout, panicking inside and hurrying forward to the midst of the
crowd near the raging Fred and constraining Chasers.
Harry was cursing as well as George, but all of a sudden they flew off of the little grease-wad and hit the icy ground, hard.
"What do you think you're DOING?" Madam Hooch screeched as Harry sprang to his feet and saw Malfoy on the ground with a bloody nose, whimpering over the noise of the crowd.
"I've
never seen such behavior like it –– back up to the castle, both
of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go!
/Now/!"
Harry turned on his heel and began marching off towards
the pitch, sure George was right behind him and wondering whether the
three Chasers had failed in restraining Fred, and if he had launched
another attack on Malfoy in rage.
As
Madam Hooch finally broke up the brawl and Harry and George marched
out of the Quidditch Pitch, Fred finally stopped fighting the
Gryffindor chasers. Panting and red-in-the-face from his exertions,
he settled on glaring daggers at Malfoy. Though he had ceased
struggling for the present, neither Angelina, Katie or Alicia trusted
him to remain docile for very long, and their grip was almost painful
on his arms and shoulders. It irked him. Everything irked him at the
moment. His team for holding him back. Hooch for taking Malfoy's
side. Harry and George getting at Draco first. He was in a generally
horrible mood, though oddly enough the desire to kill the Slytherin
had died down somewhat to a very dull bloodlust. He spun on his heel,
thrashing his arm sharply in able to break out of their grips.
"Lay
off!" he snarled venomously, eyes blazing. "Get off me, I
say!"
He managed to shake off the chasers without very
much difficulty - they backed off without much of a fight after
seeing that Fred wasn't near insane with the desire to break Draco's
neck. He almost tripped over discarded broomsticks and his beater's
bat as he stormed towards the fallen Malfoy. The Weasley twin knew
that he had little chance of attacking the creature while Hooch was
still present, but he had a thing or two to say to him just the same.
Draco – as usual in times of peril, was whimpering as he lay on the ground – Harry and George were already far up the grounds nearly to the castle, and Hermione was pale as she watched the scene unravel before her eyes.
That was – well, scary. There was no other way to put it. - Never before had she seen Fred that angry and even /she/ had narrowed her eyes at Malfoy in anger and surprise, but to see Fred have to be restrained by the combined efforts of all three Chasers!
It was frightening, and even more confusing at the way Draco was acting, for certain reasons only Hermione knew about.
She backed away a few unsure steps with her eyes now wide at Fred, who had gone up to Draco – and in a horrifying rush she panicked at the prospect of Fred beating up Draco and getting into trouble for it. – For who knew what he would do to him. All she knew was that Fred needed to stop, and control his anger. "No – Fred," She tried to say out-loud, but her throat was extremely dry and all that came out was a quiet mutter that no one could hear over the roar of the crowds.
Meanwhile, Harry and George had reached the outside of Professor McGonagall's office and were waiting, just as the Professor herself came storming down the hallway. She was wearing a scarf as a tribute to her house – but tore it from her throat with shaking hands as she strode toward them, looking livid.
"In!" she said furiously, pointing to the door.
For
once in his life, Fred Weasley had decided to do something completely
out of character. He was /not/ going to beat Draco into a heap of
bloody pulp. He did this - or rather, did /not/ do this - for several
reasons. Firstly, there too many teachers abroad, he would be stopped
before he could bat an eyelash. Secondly, he knew that Hermione would
be absolutely furious with him if he acted on such rash impulses, and
he didn't feel like getting on her bad side at the moment. Thirdly,
he decided, then and there, that he was going to have his revenge on
Malfoy - but he was going to have it on his terms, NOT after being
goaded on by the ponce. He came to a stop only once he came a few
feet away from the whimpering boy. Positively quivering with the
suppressed desire to cause this creature extreme pain, he dropped
down onto a knee and eyed the Slytherin student as if he were having
second thoughts about his decision. He dug his fingers into his knee
to keep them still.
"Don't suppose I'll have my go at
you," he said slowly, deliberately. "Harry and George did a
well enough job by themselves... but try saying half of those words
again, Malfoy, and I'll rip your tongue out of your throat."
He suddenly stood, taking a step back from Draco, scowling at
him.
"Stay away from me. Stay away from Hermione. Or I
will kill you. Or at least make you wish you were never born."
He made a half-smile sort of grimace thing, and then turned
on his heel, trouncing away without waiting for an answer (and not
really wanting to hear one, either).
Hermione breathed out slowly as she watched Fred retreat, but still wondered what he had said to Draco and also where he was going after he did so.
Not really knowing what to do with herself, and feeling strange that Fred hadn't even noticed her presence, Hermione decided against following Fred for some reason unknown to even her, and pushed her way slowly through the now absolutely insane crowd, which was too busy to hear anything at the moment –– Hermione's breathing, Fred's talking to Draco - or even the few words that Malfoy whimpered when Fred walked away as he lay on the ground, face screwed up in pain.
Hermione continued towards the castle – where currently George and Harry were, in Professor McGonagall's office.
"Provoked you?" Professor McGonagall had shouted, slamming a fist onto her desk so that her tartan biscuit tin slid sideways off it and burst open, littering the floor with Ginger Newts.
"He'd just lost, hadn't he, of course he wanted to provoke you! But what on earth he can have said that justified what you two did..."
Fred,
as a matter of fact, had no idea where he was going. Just as long as
he got away from Draco soon, it didn't matter. His mind was so
muddled with thoughts of revenge and turning around to finish the
little ferret off despite his prior convictions, it simply didn't
occur to him that Hermione could have been there. Rather than look,
he simply stalked away as quickly as he could without having to
contend with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He was almost
as angry with the rest of the chasers as he was with Malfoy. Maybe it
was better he'd be alone for a while and... cool off.
"He
insulted my parents!" George snarled. He didn't exactly care
that it probably wasn't exactly wise to interrupt McGonagall whilst
she was going on such a tirade. "And Harry's mother!"
He
wasn't in the slightest bit sorry for what he had done. Only,
perhaps, that he hadn't been able to hit Draco harder (though he had
hit him pretty hard already). Nobody spoke against his family like
that and lived. Glowering, brown eyes glaring at McGonagall as if it
were her fault any of this came to place, George waited for a
response to his impudence.
"But instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort out, you two decided to give an exhibition of Muggle dueling, did you?" bellowed Professor McGonagall. "Have you any idea what you've –"
"Hem
hem."
Harry wheeled around and his stomach filled with a mixture
of lead and anger. Great - what did she want.?
"May I help,
Professor McGonagall?" asked the green-cloaked toad in a sweet
poisonous voice.
Professor McGonagall flushed angrily. "Help?
What do you mean, 'help'?"
She bent down to pick it up, and happened to hear a few words coming from Draco's wincing face. With a slight frown, Hermione stood up and stared at him.
The words were so quiet that she couldn't hear what they were, but Draco's face was in a more painful look than usual. He was clutching his side and his grey eyes opened, fell on Hermione, and narrowed.
Hermione took a step back, glaring straight at him and not moving any line of her face.
If he wanted to be that way, fine. He was a slimeball after all... wasn't he.
Yes, he was.
She took one step forward, feeling some of the anger that she had been bottling up inside come out a little outlet in her feelings.
Hermione took a slow breath, then spit on the ground near Draco, whose look deepened.
She was feeling all the hate for the curse he had put on her finally come through her and show on her face. "I hope you feel really well about this Draco. Because that letter is –" She shook her head slowly to finish the sentence, eyes locked on his, then turned around and walked off back through the crowd, clutching her bag and leaving Draco to stare after her with wide eyes.
It
was a pity Fred hadn't stayed for a few moments, for he would have
certainly been proud of Hermione's brave (and slightly vulgar)
actions. After storming out of the Pitch, however, his temper cooled
enough for him to realize that he left his broom and his beater's
club lying on the ground. He slowed his step, scowling before him at
the castle, where George and Harry were already out of sight - and
pondered whether to go back and retrieve them. He certainly didn't
want Hooch chastising him for maltreating Quidditch supplies, now,
did he?
Running a hand through his fiery red hair, Fred
decided that he should probably go back. He had nothing better to do,
anyway, and he guessed that it would be a while until George was let
out of McGonagall's office. And hey - maybe, if he were lucky, he
would even be able to witness Draco receiving some sort of
punishment, or being shoved off to the Hospital Wing. Thrusting his
fists into the pockets of his Quidditch robes, the Weasley spun on
his heel and began retracing his steps.
------
Several
swearwords ran through George's head, ones that he wouldn't dare
utter at the moment, or he would be suspended for sure. Instead he
narrowed his eyes at Umbridge, mouthing them wordlessly - no. No,
this old bat - what did she - she couldn't - she - he would - He
couldn't hold a single thought for more than a few words, though they
all centered around the mutual consent of, "She should die!"
His hands curled into fists. If she was going to say what he thought
she would... she was done for. He thought that he was going to burst
a blood vessel when he only had McGonagall to be lectured by - but
this...
Professor
Umbridge moved forward into the office, still smiling that sickly
smile that made Harry want to rub it off with the oil from Snape's
head.
"Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra
authority."
"You thought wrong," McGonagall snapped, turning
her back on Umbridge. "Now, you two had better listen closely. I do
not care what provocation Malfoy offered you, I do not care if he
insulted every family member you possess, your behavior was
disgusting and I am giving each of you a week's work of detention!
Do not look at me like that, Potter –" For Harry's jaw had just
dropped, "– you deserve it! And if either of you ever ––"
"Hem
hem,"
"Yes?" Professor McGonagall closed her eyes as
though praying for patience.
"I think they deserve rather more
than detentions," said Umbridge, smiling still more
broadly.
Professor McGonagall's eyes flew open as did Harry's
jaw again.
That – absolute – cow. What kind of horrors did she
have in store for him?
"But unfortunately, it is what I think
that counts, as they are in my House, Dolores."
"Well,
/actually/ Minerva," simpered Professor Umbridge, "I think you'll
find that what I think /does/ count. Now, where is it? Cornelius just
sent it.. . . I mean," she gave a false little laugh as she
rummaged in her handbag and Harry's fist tightened around the small
Snitch. "The /Minister/ just sent it. . . Ah yes. . . hem hem –
Educational Decree Number Twenty-five. . ."
"Not another one!"
exclaimed Professor McGonagall violently.
"Well yes," said
Umbridge. "Anyways, the amendment, - 'The High Inquisitor will
henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions,
and removal of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff
members. . ."
But Harry didn't hear any of the rest. All he
wanted to know was what Umbridge wanted to do, and what would happen
to him and George. Would they be expelled?
He tried hard not to
think of going back to the Dursleys and spending the rest of his life
as a banker.
But what she said next drew him back to earth as
quickly as he had gone, and with a stab of panic.
"So. . . I
really think I will have to ban these two from playing Quidditch ever
again," she said, looking from Harry to George and back
again.
Hermione was already through the crowd and back up the
hill, in plain view through a space in the pitch for anyone who
wanted to see her, and Draco was doing just that. He was staring
after her disdainfully, yet with a not-so-Draco aura.
As
he came closer, Fred caught sight of Hermione as she began walking
away from the Pitch. He stopped in surprise, being reminded of the
second thing he had forgotten in the past few minutes. He felt
slightly guilty for not looking for her sooner – but surely she
realized that that little git had flustered him beyond reason?
Smiling humorlessly, he quickened his step a bit to meet up with
her.
---
George could not believe his ears. He froze,
gazing at Umbridge like a fish out of water. Ban...ever...again. His
mind turned over these words, frantically trying to find some other
hidden meaning out of them. It could not possibly be... she didn't...
they weren't going to... seriously! Once again his thoughts would
only come in short spurts and incomplete sentences. He blinked,
opened his mouth once or twice as if to speak, but couldn't
physically say anything.
He turned around sharply to raise his
eyebrows at McGonagall, a slightly wild expression in his eyes. She
had to say something. She had to do something. How could she let this
happen to the Gryffindor Quidditch team!? Only one beater, and no
seeker, and a keeper that couldn't save a goal even if the quaffle
was aimed right at his head! This was unheard of. Simply unheard of!
And only for a little brawling...!
A lesson was to be learned
here. One should /never/ assume that their day could get no worse.
Harry
couldn't believe his ears either. He was in utter shock. He felt
the Snitch fluttering in his hand and when he spoke, even his voice
sounded distant. "Ban us? From playing . . . ever again?"
"Yes
Mr. Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick,"
Umbridge's smile widened as she watched him struggle to figure out
if he had heard correctly.
Harry's jaw dropped even so low that there was fear of it hitting the ground. He could not believe his ears. Surely he was dreaming, and this was all because he had fallen off of his broom during the game, and gotten a serious life-threatening concussion – or something of the matter, because he would rather be in that situation than this.
No
Quidditch for the REST of his LIFE?
"You /and/ Mr. Weasley here.
And I think, to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped
too – if his teammates had not restrained him, I feel sure he would
have attacked young Mr. Malfoy as well."
Harry barely paid
attention to the rest. All he heard was no Beaters, or Seeker – for
the rest of their lives. The thing he enjoyed most was ripped away
from him – forever.
Umbridge left the room leaving a horrified silence in her wake.
Hermione did not know Fred was behind her – her nerves were too high. Everything had happened so fast... she had basically told Malfoy the answer – Malfoy had looked at her strangely, as if – ...
-
But no. She had finally done what she had wanted to do for five years
– be rebellious in front of Malfoy.
Well, not that she hadn't
before, she had taken a chunk out of his face in her third year –
but apart from that, she put up with rubbish. "Just ignore it
Harry," or "Come /on/ Ron," were two of the most familiar
phrases she had known.
She didn't even have time to think about
Fred – her mind was so presently preoccupied and busy.
George
stared after the old bat with an expression that could have curdled
milk. He felt as if a bucket of icewater had just been dumped over
his head, and for a good four seconds he was as rigid as a board. As
soon as the door was closed, he had the oddest sensation of having
the world shatter about him in a million and one itsy... bitsy...
pieces...
"How could you let her do this?" roared
the Weasley twin, flying around to turn on the Professor with a
murderous look about him. His face was almost as red as his hair, and
his eyes just as fiery. It gave him a slightly demonic appearance
that one might laugh at... as long as one wasn't the object of such
anger. "She -can't- do this! Are you going to -let- her ruin the
Gryffindor Quidditch team!?"
He sincerely doubted that
McGonagall could do anything about this. That loathesome decree alone
was enough proof that it was out of her hands. George refused to
believe it. No! McGonagall HAD to have president over that fat wad of
blubber and - and - gelatin! This... this wasn't good. No, something
had to be done about this. George had never felt himself so angry in
his entire life. He was even angrier than he had been before he
pounded Malfoy. Who knows what he would do after this!? Fred AND he
definitely would not take this one easily. Not. at. all.. The old
toad would either have to die, or be run out of the school amidst
gales of laughter (or gasps of awe -- he couldn't tell which would
please him more at the moment... maybe a mixture of both...). The
second sounded more appealing, for he had the vaguest notion that no
revenge was worth Azkaban.
------
"Oy! Hermione!
Wait up!" he called, quickening his pace and running a little
until he finally reached Hermione, who seemingly had been oblivious
to his presence. He did not really think much of it. He was too
destracted to think that it was possible that she had done something
so bold as to 'talk sass' to Malfoy during his brief bout of confused
walking back and forth along the pitch. He slowed, falling into step
beside her. He gave her a weary sort of smile. Screw the brooms, he
thought. Someone else would pick it up for him. He didn't want to go
back there again, not when he had something better to do: walk with
Hermione back to the castle.
"Hey," he said lightly,
looking furtively at her. He didn't know what else to say. He decided
that 'hey' was good for now.
Hermione's
eyes darted to Fred and back to front again when he said that catchy
opening line. She didn't answer right away - and then the not
answering right away, turned into not answering at all. She merely
continued to walk, in a brisk manner, trying hard not to think of
what she had just done in front of Malfoy. Oh it was going to be hell
to pay, that was certain. She burned the bridge before she'd even
gotten near enough to cross it.
- But... /did/ she want to cross
it at all? That question had repeated itself inside her head ever
since she had received the letter.
Then her thoughts crossed over
what Harry, George, and, (in Fred's case, almost,) had done. What
were the /punishments/ going to be? Would Harry and George be
expelled? With the new cow of an Inquisitor trying to get as much
power as she could, it would be quite serious - and Hermione wasn't
pleased in the slightest with anything at the moment.
Her frosty
eyes matched her frosty face, which was somewhat panicky. She didn't
really know why she was acting so odd, or why she wasn't
responding, but for the first time ever in their relationship - she
truly didn't want to be around Fred at the moment. Why this struck
her so powerfully at the moment she had no idea, and was even more
upset about /it/.
"Hi..." She managed to say quietly,
determinedly not looking at him but keeping her gaze as least-angry
as possible. For it was true, she wasn't upset with Fred... more
with everything else.
Harry didn't even know what to
say. He opened his mouth a few times, then, not capable of speech,
closed it again. The anger coursing through him was so strong, that
had something delicate been sitting in front of him it would have
been broken.
Without a word, he pushed the chair over angrily, and
strode from the room with his hands in his pockets. He didn't even
want to hear what McGonagall had to say – Umbridge was a foul,
twisted, evil, mad old bat – and she was going to make life at
Hogwarts miserable for him.
Professor McGonagall did not answer
Fred, but stared after Umbridge with a face as white as chalk, then
sat down in her chair and began to write on parchment – lips
thinner than ever.
"Ah."
With
a slight twinge of annoyance, Fred realized in roughly ten seconds of
being in her presence that Hermione would not be good company at the
moment. She obviously was not in a very good mood. Not that he had
expected her to be bright and happy and chipper after what went on
after the game, of course, but still... He hadn't been looking
forward to her being short with him of all people. Maybe she was
upset with him for trying to get at Malfoy, though he thought this
bloody unfair, as he hadn't even touched the shrimp. If he tried to
talk to her now, or even try to stand the silence for very long, one
would probably end up snapping at the other. He wasn't quite sure how
he would react to that. He would either rise into a towering rage, or
break down into hysterics. No, better he let himself simmer down and
brood a little before he tried to figure out what was wrong with
Hermione.
He scowled slightly, wrinkling his freckled nose as
he turned to look at the doors. He did not like the thought of going
back to the Quidditch Pitch again. He had already walked back and
forth enough times to make him dizzy. Nah, he'd just go ahead and
hide somewhere until he found George and demanded the details of his
punishment, and what they could do to get him out of it. So he said,
without trying to sound bitter:
"Y'know, I'll see you
later, Hermione."
Without waiting for a reply, he put on
a burst of speed and ran all the way back to the castle, thinking
that if he had to stay another moment in the sunshine and the snow
with someone who didn't want to talk to him he would go bloody effing
mad.
------
Any answer - absolutely any answer she
could have picked randomly out of a hat, even the placating 'I'm
sorry, there's nothing I can do about it' - couldn't have been any
worse than McGonagall's silence. George still could hardly believe
that she had nothing to say to him. He stood there, stock still as he
watched her scribble on her parchment. For a moment he wasn't angry
at all, simply astonished that she wouldn't even give him the
courtesy of acknowledging his existance. He didn't even notice
Harry's departure. ...In fact, he had hardly even noticed Harry
during the whole affair, though it was rather selfish of him.
For
a moment he had the wild impulse to lunge forward, to yell, to
scream, to shake the desk, shake her, do anything to make her
look at him or say something. He took a step towards the desk, even,
but then controlled himself. With a feral snarl, he turned on his
heel and charged after Harry. He slammed the door behind him as if he
wanted to knock it off his hinges. He did want that, actually, though
even the door was being uncooperative today...
Almost
immediately Hermione knew that she had made a mistake. She knew by
the way Fred said that he would see her later, that he was hurt, and
that made her feel even more upset.
A feeling of guilt washed over
her stomach like a wave of radiation, and she found herself walking
faster up to the castle after Fred.
"No – wait!" She called
out, but too quietly for even a cricket to hear, let alone Fred who
was going very fast and nearly to the castle by then.
She /wasn't/
cross with Fred, and didn't like that it came off that way – she
wasn't even surprised that he had tried to do Malfoy in... - or was
she?
Come off it... she thought to herself, and hurried
into the castle. She had to find Fred.
And Harry, and George, of
course, to find out what had happened to them.
Oh this was awful –
like a nightmare. Everything was turned upside-down. Fred was angry
with her now because she had been short with him, she was having
thoughts about Draco that she never wanted to even think in the first
place, and she felt guilty for making Fred think she didn't want to
be around him. The nasty little impulse she had felt disappeared as
soon as she had felt it –but Fred had been gone before she could
call him back.