Chapter Twenty-six
Quidditch Practice, Part 1
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Hermione raged as she, Harry and Draco headed into the empty common room. "Are you insane?"
"I had to prove he was lying!" Draco snapped. "Shut up, will you?"
"What did it matter if he was lying?" Hermione yelled. "Couldn't you have picked a better way to prove it, other than brewing a potentially dangerous potion?"
"You don't get it!" Draco shouted. "I have to figure out what's wrong with him! He must be stopped!"
Draco began to pace back and forth as best he could while chained to Hermione. "What could have happened to him?" he muttered. "Weasel mouthed off to him… he disappeared all weekend… and…" Draco stopped, frowning. "He came back happy." His jaw suddenly dropped and a look of horror so complete washed over his face that Harry and Hermione stared at him nervously. "Oh, my god," Draco breathed, turning to look at Hermione in total mortification. "Snape got laid."
Harry's eyes widened and he turned to look at Hermione too, waiting for her to use her cool logic and assure him that no, Snape never did anything as normal as have sex… and she completely misinterpreted the look.
"What are you looking at ME for?" she demanded.
Harry had the good sense to shake his head emphatically and stammer that he hadn't meant anything by it, but Draco had never exactly been the most perceptive when it came to Hermione's moods.
"It was YOU, admit it!" he yelled, pointing at her accusingly. "This just proves it! You've been shagging him for ages, for months! It was all you! You've driven Snape to madness!"
"First off, you're a complete IDIOT to believe that I would even THINK about doing THAT with him! It was a prank, you stupid prat! And second off, I've been chained to YOUR annoying ass all weekend, so I couldn't even possibly be an option!"
"Option? What…" Harry was looking positively green.
Hermione looked at him, expression sour. "You're not helping, you know."
"Ha!" Draco yelled, jabbing his finger at her wildly, bits of cheese falling off of his arms. "Don't think you can fool me! You have some secret way to get the chain off, don't you! DON'T YOU! ADMIT IT!"
"If I could get this damned thing off, I would never put it back on!"
"Oh, suuuuuuuure, Granger. SUUUUUUUUURE! You've been taking the chain off every night to go screw your greasy over-the-hill boyfriend, and then you come back before I wake up! Because… because…" Draco paused, stumped momentarily, thinking hard. A look of realization finally dawned on his face. "BECAUSE YOU'RE TRYING TO SEDUCE ME!"
"WHAT?" Harry and Hermione both shouted incredulously. Harry burst out laughing, but Draco continued to rant.
"I've figured you out now, Granger! You've got a fetish for bad boys! That's what it is! You like your guys dangerous, and now you want me! You probably put the Little Weasel and Thomas up to that duel just to get to me! Well, I'm onto you now, Granger! It'll never happen! I don't care how hot you are! ARGH!" Draco slapped his hands over his mouth, looking disgusted with him himself.
Hermione stared at him, her mouth opening and closing several times as she fought to find something to say. Unable to come up with a dignified response, she turned her wide, half-crazed eyes to a still-laughing Harry. "Harry," she said pleadingly, "I can't take much more of this. I just can't! I… we… THE CHAIN MUST COME OFF!" she roared. And then, cutting through the haze of madness, came Ginny's voice, calm and serious, just like it had been when the chain had first appeared.
"Hermione, if we can't figure out how to get the chain off, then we'll cut off Malfoy's arm, okay?"
Hermione froze, the "logic" hitting her soothingly… and then she dived forward and sank her teeth into Draco's wrist.
Draco let out a rather girly scream of pain and terror and began to beat his free hand against Hermione's back and head, Hermione doing her best to bite through his arm and not getting very far, between his robes, shirt, muscle and the nasty taste of the rancid cheese covering his arm. Harry hung back, torn between saving Hermione from a trip to Azkaban for biting off Draco's hand and watching with glee.
Eventually, Hermione realized that Draco's wrist simply wasn't coming off, so she figured there was only one thing left to do—strangle him, and then cut off his arm once he was dead. Then she could get his end of the chain off and just turn the damned thing into a pretty bracelet.
Hermione released his arm, spat out a mouthful of cheese and torn robes, gave herself a second to stare sadly at his arm (she hadn't even broken the skin! How distressing…) and then attempted to get him in a chokehold. Draco, however, ran for it, still screaming in a high-pitched feminine wail… but of course, he couldn't exactly get away with the person intent on chewing his arm off attached to him by the very thing that drove her to this kind of insanity. Hermione chased after him, her arms outstretched and, combined with her crazed expression, making her look like a very fast-moving zombie.
Harry watched, tears of laughter streaming down his face. As if watching them chase each other wasn't enough, they were both still covered in globs of hot cheese, Draco still had ink drawings on his face and when his hat fell off as they leaped over the couch, one could see that half of his skin and hair was a bright, shocking pink.
"Ah, what the hell," Harry muttered to himself. "She deserves a bit of fun."
Dodging around Draco and Hermione, Harry headed over to the guestroom to get a fresh change of clothes, intent upon hitting the showers.
Harry returned from the showers just before dinnertime to find small groups of people standing a few steps up on each dormitory staircase, watching with amusement as Hermione continued to chase Draco around. The only difference in the scene was that Draco was no longer screaming, saving his breath for running, and most of the furniture and tables had been knocked over.
"Hey, Harry!" called Fred, who was standing on the boys' dormitory staircase with George, both of them now clean of cheese and watching with amusement. Ron was right next to them; apparently the twins had decided they just couldn't stay away from Hogwarts for long in the middle of a prank war. "Want to place a bet?" Fred asked.
"So far, odds are in favor of Hermione, four to one," George added.
Harry rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand.
Eight spells, a lot of disappointed Gryffindors and two showers later, Draco and Hermione were preparing for Quidditch practice, neither of them speaking much, Draco with a large bandage covering the bruise Hermione's jaws had inflicted upon his arm, just above the invisible chain cuff, and a tight black toboggan covering most of the color stains in his hair.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come, Hermione?" Harry asked for the sixth time as she tied a scarf around her neck and pulled on one of her hand-knit caps.
"Dumbledore said a teacher would be there," Hermione told him wearily. "Just… focus on your exams."
Harry didn't bother to point out the fact that studying without Hermione was pretty much useless and let it go. He accompanied her and Draco down to the kitchens for a quick bite to eat and then split up from her in the entrance hall, Harry heading back to Gryffindor Tower and Hermione and Draco leaving for the Quidditch pitch.
A foot of snow was covering the ground and the wind chilled them both to the bone. Hermione pulled her cloak tighter around herself, swallowing at the sight of the six hulking trolls who formed the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team. "Hey, Draco!" Crabbe called, smirking at Hermione. "Brought us something new for Bludger practice?"
"Unfortunately not," Draco growled, causing Hermione to stare at him in surprise. He ignored her. "The little Mudblood here has to share a broom with me. And as I've told you lot a thousand times, I'd better not see one single Bludger aimed at me, understand?"
"Granger has to share your broom?" a Slytherin sixth-year blurted out. "Don't you want to cancel practice, then?"
"No, I don't want to cancel practice," Draco growled, "because unfortunately you people can't play Quidditch worth a damn."
"Which is usually the captain's fault," Hermione muttered.
"How would you know, you little—"
"Sorry I'm late," called a new voice, interrupting Draco, and Hermione let out a small groan; of all the teachers who could have been picked to oversee the practice, Dumbledore had picked Oliver. She supposed that, technically, he'd know the most about Quidditch after Hooch—or maybe even more than Hooch—but the last thing she needed to deal with right now was Oliver.
"What are you doing here?" Draco snapped.
"Keeping an eye on your pathetic excuse for a Quidditch team," Oliver shot back. He turned to Hermione. "You okay?"
Hermione grinned at him weakly and nodded. At least she knew that if any of the Slytherins tried anything funny, Oliver would pull a Harry. Or maybe even a Ron.
Draco didn't miss the kind look Oliver was giving her or the little grins they shared. He snorted in disgust. "What is it with you and teachers, Granger?"
"What?" Oliver said, blinking and turning to look at him, startled.
"Will you stop with the whole Snape thing?" Hermione screamed, making everyone but Draco (who was quite used to her yelling by now) cringe back. "I am NOT shagging Snape! I'd think the fact that I just tried to chew off one of your major appendages would prove it!"
Everyone stared. Goyle scratched his head in confusion and a few of the smarter Slytherins frowned thoughtfully.
"Um," Oliver said, wondering exactly just what that meant, "…which… major appendage… are we talking about here?"
"Oh, don't even TRY to play innocent!" Draco yelled, ignoring Oliver. "You're shagging Wood, you're shagging Snape, and you're—"
"I am NOT SHAGGING SNAPE!" Hermione screamed so loudly that her voice echoed around the grounds.
"HA! So you admit to shagging Wood, do you?"
"NO!"
Oliver fought off a grin.
"Don't bother denying it! Everyone knows now! Shagging any other teachers? Hagrid? Flitwick? Dumbledore? Is that why you get such good grades? OW!" Hermione had grabbed Oliver's broom right from his hands and walloped Draco in the head with it.
"How sick can you be?" Hermione shouted. "You shut your mouth, or so help me, I'll kill you in your sleep!"
"Oh, right! I would've already tried to kill you in your sleep, but you never DO sleep, you're always shagging someone! Goody-two-shoes, my ass! AND YOU'RE TRYING TO SEDUCE ME! I KNOW IT!"
Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately not to laugh. They both looked like complete raving lunatics, and it didn't help that Draco (who wasn't as gifted with spells as Hermione and as such had been unable to erase the ink drawings by magic) had faded symbols and what looked like pale-pink, slowly fading dye all over his face. The Slytherin Quidditch team, who weren't exactly the brightest people in the school, watched with a mixture of amusement, shock, horror, and nervousness.
"I wouldn't seduce you if my life depended on it!"
"HA! You know you want me!"
Hermione raised Oliver's broom once again, but this time Draco was ready for her, blocking her blow with his Nimbus 2001. Before anyone could blink, the two of them were locked in a vicious sword—er, broom—fight, twigs and snow flying as they once again battled it out.
"HEY! HEY!" Oliver shouted, getting whacked four times before managing to shove the two of them apart. He seized his beloved broom back from Hermione. "Are you crazy? This is a Firebolt 2 autographed by Shaun Lambdin! Do you have any idea what this is worth?" Hermione rolled her eyes and Oliver glanced around, singling out a nearby Slytherin. "Hey, you! With the crappy broom!" The Slytherin stepped forward reluctantly and Oliver snatched the broom away. "Here you go," he said, handing it to Hermione. "Perfectly good Cleansweep Nine."
Hermione gave him a dirty look, but was unable to resist smiling at him; typical boy, always obsessed with Quidditch. And speaking of Quidditch-obsessed boys…
Hermione tossed the broom aside and pulled her wand. Draco had drawn his own before she could get off a curse, however, and she paused. She'd already spent most of her day suffering because of misused magic, and she didn't really want to get Oliver in any more trouble; who knew what would happen to him if anyone found out how much he'd been covering for them for the past few days?
"Drop your wand," Hermione told Draco, "and—"
"OH!" Goyle said suddenly. "THAT'S what she meant by 'major appendage!' Did she really try to chew yours off, Draco?" Something about his words seemed to make it click with the other Slytherins.
"You let her close enough to try?" Crabbe said in amazement.
"She's a Mudblood; are you mad?" Blaise Zabini exclaimed.
"You let her live?" Theodore Nott said, gaping at Draco incredulously.
Hermione closed her eyes, absolutely mortified. Oh, god, what was she going to say when THIS got back to Harry and Ginny? And RON?
Oliver couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. Somehow, that made it twice as bad in Hermione's mind. The Slytherins thought she'd tried to bite off Draco's "major appendage" (WHY had she used that to describe his arm?) and for all she knew, Oliver did too. And he thought it was FUNNY.
"Can we play Quidditch now?" Hermione groaned.
"She bit my arm, you idiots," Draco growled. "My ARM."
There were a few moments of silence as the Slytherins mulled this over. "Uh… why would she bite your arm?" Crabbe asked.
"Yeah, that doesn't make any sense," Goyle said.
"Come on, Draco, we're your friends," Blaise said with a smirk. "You can tell US the truth."
Draco glared at Blaise so furiously that Blaise decided to examine something off in the distance with an innocent look on his face. "For. The. Last. Time," Draco spat, "it was my ARM!!"
Hermione sighed. "I want to go home."
"No one's stopping you," Draco snapped.
"YOU are stopping me, you horrible little prick!" Hermione screamed. "YOU! YOU YOU YOU!"
Draco grinned, knowing that no one else knew about the chain but Oliver, and therefore they would have no idea what she meant; the Slytherins would have no idea how Draco was preventing her from going home. "Ah… so you DO want me. Well, I'm sorry, Granger, but it's never gonna happen."
"Oh, shut up," Hermione snapped. "If I had a Galleon for every time you've checked me out in the past seven years, I could buy Hogwarts."
Draco's jaw dropped. Surely she hadn't ever actually caught him? Did he really do it that often? Of course not, and it wasn't like he'd really been doing it for seven years, he hadn't, just since that prank, since he'd noticed that she actually had a good body… well, okay, the Yule Ball had really done a lot too… but…
"Aha! Somebody looks guilty!" Hermione gloated.
Draco's panic changed instantly to rage. She'd tricked him, and in front of six of his mates—well, as close to mates as one could find in Slytherin, anyway. He could already hear Blaise and Theodore struggling to keep their laughter in.
Draco leaped forward, itching to wrap his hands around her throat until she turned an interesting shade of purple. He didn't get far, however; he literally ran into Oliver, who'd stepped in front of her, still chuckling slightly.
"As amusing as this truly is," Oliver said, trying to sound stern and failing, "I have things to do. Start your practice, or call it off, Malfoy."
Draco glared at Oliver, dying to say something but knowing better. Wood might be a Gryffindor, a psycho, and a jerk who's shagging Granger, Draco reminded himself, but he's still a teacher. One who's on Granger's side.
"Fine," Draco snapped, snatching the box containing the Quidditch balls from Blaise. "Everyone in the air!" he called, releasing the Snitch, the Quaffle, and one Bludger. "Standard drills!"
The other six members of the Slytherin team kicked off from the ground as best they could in the snow, and Draco turned to Hermione. After a long pause, Draco grudgingly held out his Nimbus 2001. Though he didn't want Hermione anywhere near him or his broom, he needed a bit of a good moment, and flying was one of the few things that made him happy. "Get on," he snapped.
Hermione stared at the broom, panic rising within her. She'd taken the required flying courses in her earlier years, but she'd never been very good at it, and had been terrified the whole time. The only other times she'd flown had been on Buckbeak and that thestral, and neither of those times had been too much fun for her. Flying courses and magical creatures were nothing like Quidditch, either. What was she going to do? She couldn't get on a broom with Draco Malfoy!
"GET ON!" Draco repeated.
"No!" she shrieked in a panic.
"Granger, we've been through this. Dumbledore—"
"Dumbledore makes mistakes! He's only human! I'm not getting on!"
"YES YOU ARE!" Draco shouted.
"What if I push you off? Huh? You ever think about that?"
"You're chained to me. You push me off, we both die."
Well, that wasn't comforting. And it hadn't worked, either. "But… but…"
She looked at Oliver, who knew she wasn't a fan of flying and gave her a sympathetic look.
"I'm here," he said softly. "I won't let anything happen to you."
Hermione took a deep breath. Of course Oliver wouldn't let her get hurt. She smiled weakly, relieved… but she forced herself not to take comfort in his presence. It was a moment between them, one she didn't want to have, not when her boyfriend was mad at her and Oliver was her professor and Malfoy was chained to her and life was unbelievably hellish.
Hermione suddenly felt a little foolish. Where was her Gryffindor courage? How could she be scared of a broom? She'd faced Voldemort, and Death Eaters, and three-headed dogs, and giants and centaurs and so on; surely she could handle a broom. It wasn't even invisible like thestrals were. She could do this. She could do this. She could… damn it, why her?
Reluctantly, moving about as fast as a person who was asked politely to sit in an electric chair, Hermione threw her leg over the broom.
"Move back," Draco snapped, and Hermione scooted as far away from the front of the broom as she could get without the tail's twigs poking her in the butt. Draco sat down in front of her, as far to the front as possible while still allowing him space to steer. "We have to kick off at the same time," Draco said sourly, "or this won't work. We're too heavy. On the count of three, kick. One… two… three!"
Draco pushed off with his legs as hard as he could; the front end of the broom jerked up maybe an inch but the rest stayed put, and Draco nearly jumped right off his broom. His grip on the broom was the only thing that kept him from slipping sideways and landing in the snow; he slammed back down onto the broom quite painfully and let out a loud scream.
Oliver burst out laughing. "Ah, the other hazards of Quidditch," he gasped.
It took all of Draco's willpower not to perform the Killing Curse on them both right then and there. After a long while, he turned and glared at Hermione over his shoulder. "If. You. Do. That. Again," he growled through gritted teeth, "I WILL KILL YOU!"
Hermione swallowed, reminded for the first time that this was, in fact, the son of Voldemort's right hand man, and given enough prodding could probably be persuaded to do a lot of horrible things. "I don't wanna fly," she whined.
"Well, you're gonna, with or without a broom," he snarled, and turned back around. "Now, on the count of three, KICK OFF!"
This time, Hermione obeyed, but it was such a weak kick that they didn't get very far (and Draco's kick-off was decidedly less powerful, also). They struggled to get height, Oliver following them easily, still trying to reign in his laughter.
Hermione gripped the broom handle tightly, slowly trying to relax. They were holding still, more or less, as Draco scanned the stadium for the Snitch. She could handle holding still. Yes, holding still was fine.
For a few moments, everything was okay. Oliver flew over to the Slytherin Keeper, badgering him for his sloppy performance and yelling things like "You idiot, stay in the middle! Come on, he's trying to fake you out! If you can let these pathetic excuses for Chasers passed you, you need to go—"
"Ah-ha!" Draco yelled, drowning Oliver out. He'd seen the Snitch at last; without thinking, he aimed the broom in the right direction and they shot forward.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Of course, he'd forgotten Hermione.
In a panic, Hermione flung her arms around Draco's waist, clinging for dear life to the only thing she could. Startled and then outraged, Draco let go of the broom in an attempt to dislodge her fingers and slowly they started to sink.
"LET GO!"
"We're gonna diiiiiie!"
"GET OFF ME!"
"HELP! HELP!"
"Draco, look out!"
The single Bludger was zooming their way. Draco yelped and grabbed the broom handle, but Hermione saw the Bludger coming too and tried to lean back while still holding his waist tightly, and Draco was jerked slightly backwards. The top-of-the-line broom, which reacted to the slightest touch, flew back and up—so they missed the Bludger, but began to back-flip in mid-air.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Hermione screamed as the broom spun them over six times before Draco was able to right it. Draco let the broom hover and began to struggle with her fingers, but Hermione was now completely hysterical, screaming her head off and clinging to him like a barnacle to a shipwreck.
Oliver, who was by their side in an instant, spent about ten minutes talking to her soothingly before she realized he was even there. The moment she saw him, she flung her arms around his neck.
"Oh, god, he really did try to kill me!" Hermione babbled. "Fly… kill… scary… let me on your broom!" She grabbed the back of Oliver's broom and started to pull her leg up to climb on… and then she caught sight of the ground, some fifty feet below.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
She flung her arms back around Draco, squeezing his chest so hard that he began to gag. A few of the Quidditch players stopped to watch the comical, confusing scene—Hermione Granger, clinging tightly to Draco, him apparently about to throw up and Oliver hovering next to them, looking pleading.
"Um… Blaise," said Crabbe, cocking his head to the side as he stared, "d'you think all that was true? About her liking Draco and Wood?"
"I'm starting to wonder," Blaise said. To him, it appeared that she was hugging Draco; he couldn't see her face or hear what any of them were saying, but Draco looked quite nauseous and Blaise wondered if Oliver was trying to convince her that she didn't really want Draco.
"While we're on the subject," called one of the Chasers, "why are Draco's hair and face kind of pink?"
"I'm more curious about those grayish peace signs on his face," said Theodore.
Back on Draco's broom, Hermione was finally starting to calm a little, thanks to a long pep talk from Oliver (who was quite good at such speeches, especially after several years as a Quidditch captain). She finally released Draco, quite shaky, and Draco started gulping air. She scooted back and grabbed the broom handle in front of her instead, her knuckles white from the tightness of her grip.
"Okay," she said, "I'm okay now."
"I'm right here with you, remember that, okay?" Oliver said. Hermione nodded… and Oliver's gaze immediately began to wander back to the Slytherin team, a wistful expression on his face at the thought of the game. The Keeper missed another save and Oliver rolled his eyes. "I'll be right back," he called absently.
Hermione stared after him in indignation. "Stupid Quidditch!" she growled.