The dawn of the Quidditch match broke with pinks and purples in all their glory. Hermione discovered this when she awoke with her face pressed against the pages of "Folktales of the Fifteenth Century." Another night spent sleeping in the common room. She'd grown used to taking refuge in the library until Pince kicked her out, but last night she'd gotten so caught up researching the Gaunt family that she hadn't had time to work on her Ancient Runes project until she got back to the Common Room. Her back and neck ached from sitting in the chair for so long. It was also a bit chilly, the house elves having left the windows open to bring in a breeze and a bit of morning fog. Hermione groaned. Hopefully it was early enough that she could go and shower without disturbing Parvati or Lavender. She also needed to grab her Gryffindor kit from her trunk. She got up and stretched, preparing herself for a potential uproar.

It went better than expected. The only person she ran into was Ginny whose eyes were slightly manic as she ran through various chaser manuevers. Hermione thought about mentioning to her that she was seeking today, but knew it wouldn't do much good. The vitriol the youngest Weasley had thrown her way the last time she'd attempted to speak about Quidditch still burned. It wasn't as though Hermione knew nothing about Quidditch, she mused, but she didn't make it her raison d'etre as her friends seemed to want to do.

She returned to the common room, determined to wait for Ron and Harry. Harry had left them early in the library last night, morose at the knowledge that he would be in the dungeons today rather than playing for the cup. Ron had followed soon after, green at the idea of trying to win without Harry. Personally, Hermione thought that this line of thinking was utterly moronic-Ron had helped cinch a win last year without Harry, so why on earth would it change anything now? Still, she'd learned not to question too much when it came to the Quidditch team. She would much rather take the time to watch Ron uninterrupted anyhow.

'Morning,' Ron said softly as he came down the stairs. He was already in his uniform, but the scarlet and gold appeared much deeper than usual against his pale skin. Hermione frowned at the sight of him.

'Did you get any sleep?' she asked him in horror. Ron shook his head.

'Don't wanna let Harry down.'

'For the love of Merlin,' Hermione began, but Ron held up a hand.

'Just save it, alright? I can't help how I feel.'

Hermione's retort died on her lips. He looked so put out that her heart went out to him.

Silence hung between them before Harry came down the stairs, hands shoved deeply in his pockets. It did not look as though he had slept either.

'Morning,' he muttered. Ron and Hermione nodded at him.

The walk down to breakfast was nearly silent. Ron grew steadily greener as the slump in Harry's shoulders deepened with each step. Only Quidditch could make them so unhappy. She still felt as though she was on thin ice and did not want to risk either of them being angry at her, so she bit her tongue. Instead she tried to think about what exactly Lyrica Lidion had said about Lady Deleraux and her connection to the Egyptian wizards. Terry's point a few nights ago about their being a possible connection between the early Egyptian Wizards and the Alchemists in 15th century Germany was certainly an interesting one.

'Eh, Hermione?' she tuned back in to hear. Harry was looking at her expectantly.

'Sorry?' Hermione asked, feeling caught out by her distraction.

'I said,' Harry repeated, a ghost of a smirk on his face, 'Are you going to go down to the pitch right away, or are you heading back to the library?'

'Oh,' Hermione replied, her mind spinning into overdrive. She had not given any thought to going down to the pitch early, but from Harry's other side, she could see a slightly hopeful look cross Ron's features. Anything that made him more cheerful was good in her books. 'Yes, I brought a couple of books with me. I want to get a good seat.'

Ron smiled at her, and Harry rolled his eyes. 'Seriously, you're going to study at a match?'

'No, I'm going to study before a match,' Hermione countered. 'Someone has to give you a play by play after the game.'

Harry frowned. Hermione could practically feel how disappointed he was that she was the one going to watch the game and not him.

'Hopefully there won't be too many plays towards me,' Ron added. 'With Katie back, it should mostly be on the Ravenclaw side.'

'Yeah, can you remind Katie that Dean needs to be…'and Hermione tuned out once more. She found the endless Quidditch strategies every inch as boring as the boys had the one time she tried to explain arthimantic prinicples to them. Unlike Harry, she made a concerted effort not to let her face glaze over.

Breakfast was solemn with both Ron and Harry picking at their eggs and bacon. It truly was a sorry state of affairs when Hermione was the one eating the most. Harry perked up a bit when Ginny came down to join them (how on Earth Harry thought he was disguising his affection for Ginny was beyond Hermione,) but Ron merely choked down another forkful of eggs and nodded at his sister.

Harry glanced at Ron's watch and stood up with a sigh.

'Well, good luck,' he told Ron and Ginny. Ron looked back at Harry and nodded blankly, while Ginny's face turned into a small snarl.

'Fuck that git,' she said under her breath. Hermione heard her, as did Harry as he gave Ginny the first true smile of the day.

'Give 'em hell,' he told Ginny, and she saluted him with her fork. Hermione watched Harry walk away, noticing the crowds of people entering the great hall. It seemed a fairly even divide between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, judging by the colours and banners people were bringing in.

'Cho doesn't look happy,' Ginny pointed out. Hermione looked over to see Cho discussing something rapidly with Marietta. She felt a small pang of regret at the still visible pustules that marked Marietta's face. Having told Harry off for maiming Malfoy, it occurred to her that she had done something very similar to Marietta. She tried to reason that she had done it for the greater good, but the words had begun to ring hollow. 'Hopefully that keeps up,' Ginny continued.

'That's a terrible thing to say,' Hermione told her, turning her gaze back to the redhead. Ginny gave her a pointed look.

'Would you rather she's in a brilliant mood and we lose?'

'Well no,' Hermione blushed. 'But she could have gotten bad news. Nothing was in the paper but-'

'Nobody we know is dead?' Ron butted in, his tone rather expressionless. His face was a mix of pale white and mottled green and Hermione's heart went out to him once more. She shook her head, and Ron nodded before staring back down at his bacon.

'Oi, Ginny!' Dean called from down the table. 'What's the name of that formation thing you were talking about yesterday?'

'For the love of Merlin, it's the Downward Triangle! Why can't you remember a single bloody thing I tell you!' Ginny's bench scraped behind her as she went to go over to the chasers. This left Ron and Hermione alone. Although Hermione was basically by herself, given that Ron was paying more attention to his meal than to her. She looked out over the hall, and saw Terry sitting at the Ravenclaw table, chatting animatedly with Antony. His eyes found hers and he gave a wide smile. Hermione returned it, tucking her hair behind her ear.

'Dunno why Ginny's bothering,' Ron said quietly from beside her. 'With her seeking, I don't have a chance in hell of catching the quaffle if it comes near me.'

Hermione turned to face him once more.

'Of course you do,' Hermione noted. 'You won the cup with Ginny seeking last year!'

Ron looked at her from the corner of his eyes.

'Yeah, but we had the dream team of chasers. And there were no complicated relationships to try to work around.' Ron sighed.

'You'll do much better than you think you will,' Hermione tried to bolster him. 'You've played brilliantly all year.'

He gave a half smile at the thought and pushed away the remainder of his eggs.

'Are you sure you're done?' Hermione asked, worriedly. 'You need your strength up for the game.'

Ron just looked at her, and she found it hard to read his expression. Frankly, she couldn't wait for this match to be over and for things to get slightly back to normal. Instead of commenting, she sighed as she pushed the last of her porridge to the side. 'Are you ready to head down to the pitch?'

Ron lost all the colour in his cheeks. He nodded mutely towards her, and Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Untangling his legs, Ron got up from the table, and looked morosely up at the sky. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly as fluffy white clouds meandered their way across the ceiling.

'Which side of the pitch are you playing on?' Hermione asked him, leaving her own seat.

'East,' Ron replied. 'At least I don't have to worry about the sun in my eyes.'

Hermione smiled. 'Yes, that's definitely a bonus.'

Ron had shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his robe, and began making his way out of the Great Hall. Vestiges of the morning chill still remained, forcing Hermione to draw her robes closer to her chest. She was regretting not having grabbed her scarf from the dormitory this morning.

Ron was mostly silent on the walk down to the pitch. Hermione tried her best to keep up a steady stream of encouragement for him, but it didn't seem to be doing much good. His hands never left his pockets. On the few occasions she looked up at his face, she could see his Adam's Apple bobbing furiously, as he gulped down his anxiety.

Part of her felt useless. Ron could always be counted on to make her feel better before an exam, or particularly big test. While not always tactful, he did manage to loosen the knot of worry in her chest. It didn't seem like Hermione was able to do the same for him. Words had never been her strong suit.

As they drew up next to the pitch, Hermione didn't think she'd ever seen Ron's freckles stand out so much. She'd watched him stand on a broken leg to try to defend his best mate-why did Quidditch make him so nervous?

They paused at the entrance to the changerooms. Nobody else was around. Ron was certainly the first to get ready for the match.

'Well,' Hermione started, looking up at Ron's uneasy face. 'You're going to play brilliantly.'

'You don't have to lie,' Ron muttered. He'd finally taken one hand out of his pocket, and was rubbing the back of his neck.

'I'm not lying,' Hermione protested.

'You thought I needed a potion to play well,' Ron mumbled. He looked out towards the pitch as Hermione considered her next move. It hadn't occurred to her that Ron would still be hurt about that.

'And you proved me wrong, didn't you?'

A small smile curved his upper lip.

Bolstered by this, Hermione pressed on.

'You don't need a potion to play well, you are a good Keeper. Just…treat it like a chess game!'

Ron looked back at her, a quizzical look on his face. 'Chess?'

Hermione felt flustered all of a sudden. 'You know, you don't ever think about losing a chess game. Bring some of that spirit into Quidditch, and you'll be fine!'

Ron looked back out towards the pitch, the sunlight catching his hair and turning it golden. 'Thanks for trying, Hermione, but that's just bollocks. Chess and Quidditch are two completely different things.'

'They're both games!' Her exasperation was mounting.

'I don't play chess in front of the entire school!' Ron retorted.

'You could! I don't know why you won't join the chess club! You'd beat everybody else there.'

'And I've told you,' Ron replied, spinning back around to tower over her, 'I don't need to hang out with the nutters who join chess club.'

'There's nothing wrong with joining a club!'Hermione stamped her foot in frustration.

Ron sighed, wrenching his head back to stare at the pitch. Hermione huffed. There was one last ditch effort she could give to bring Ron luck. Not to mention bring some colour back into her cheeks. And herself a bit of joy if she wasn't lying. Taking a step towards him, she huffed once more.

'Maybe I should've-nobody would watch me cock up chess.'

'Just shut up and let me wish you luck!' She cried. Stepping up onto her tiptoes and, she attempted to kiss Ron on the cheek. She had a good angle, given that he was looking out to the hoops.

'Wish I did have some of that lucky po-' To her surprise, Ron turned his head to face her at the exact moment her lips found his skin.

Only instead of just skin, she got the tiniest corner of his open mouth.

Her lips were on his.

For a moment, she froze in a mixture of delight and panic. Ron's eyes went wide. Warmth flooded the rest of her lips as she watched his skin flush.

Hermione pulled back, bashful. Ron stood with his mouth still open, staring down at her. For a moment neither of them spoke. The wind whistled through the trees behind them. Her heart was pounding in her chest. What had she done? She hadn't expected him to move towards her!

'Ah Weasley, nice to see you here bright and early.' Madame Hooch came from around the corner, a bludger under one arm. 'Miss Granger,' she added.

Hermione said nothing. Ron said nothing. Hooch looked between them.

'Are you…heading into the changeroom?' she asked, raising a thick eyebrow to look at Ron.

Ron's eyes were still glued to Hermione's. It was disconcerting to say the least. She felt herself squirm under his gaze. He didn't seem to be happy by this turn of events. He hadn't immediately grabbed her to try and kiss her properly.

'Weasley?' Hooch asked again.

Ron seemed to come into himself. He shook his head as he looked at Hooch.

'Oh, er…yeah.'

'Good.' Hooch smiled and tucked the bludger more tightly under her arm. 'Try not to make too much of a mess before the match even starts!' Whistling a tune, Hooch strode off towards the pitch. Ron and Hermione were left alone, the awkwardness between them growing with each passing second.

'I…' Hermione started, realizing that her mouth had gone suddenly dry. She swallowed. 'I'm going to get a seat. See you after the match.'

Ron's wide eyes locked back onto hers. He nodded very stiffly.

A wave of shame crested over Hermione. Now she'd gone and made things awkward right before the very important match he needed to play. He was clearly just too polite to bring up what just happened. And if she had distracted him that much, merlin only knew how much Ginny and Harry would tear her to shreds after the match.

Turning tightly on her heel, she followed in Hooch's wake. By the time she hit the stands, she allowed herself one glance back at Ron. He was still standing outside the changeroom, mouth open and watching her.

Stomach churning guilt. This was not what she wanted. She'd managed to throw him even further off of his game than he normally was. Because of an accident! She was only trying to help.

Her legs felt like lead as she climbed the stairs up to the stands. Without knowing, she found herself in the ones closest to the Gryffindor hoops. Obviously she wanted to watch him play. But being this close…would that make things worse for him?

No, she decided as she settled herself on the worn wooden bench and pulled out her Transfiguration textbook. He had wanted her in the stands this early, he could deal with the fact that she was close.

The words seemed to swim in front of her eyes. Try as she might to concentrate on the mechanics of the spell to change a pawn to a queen, she kept going back to what had just happened. How unexpectedly soft his lips had felt. The sear of his skin against her mouth. Even more frustratingly, all she wanted was to know what it would have felt like to have his mouth envelop hers…

'Wotcher, Granger.'

Hermione startled at the sound of her name. She looked up to see Terry climbing over the benches towards her.

'Oh, hi Terry.' Her voice sounded breathless. Terry flashed a grin at her. The bronze of his Ravenclaw scarf was bringing the same colour out in his windswept curls.

'Saw you heading towards the pitch with Weasley,' Terry said, swinging his legs around and taking the seat beside hers. 'Figured you'd need some company.'

Hermione blushed in spite of herself. She wasn't used to other people noticing what she did.

'Do you reckon that the composition of the pawn makes a difference?' Terry asked, leaning close to her to look at the book on her lap. 'I wonder if switching from a wooden piece to a marble one might make a difference.'

This thought had not occurred to Hermione, and she frowned as she thought about it.

'Well,' she began. 'I suppose the spellwork is the same for transfiguring teapots to teaspoons, so it would stand to reason…'

The stands began to fill as they continued their discussion on Transfiguration and various laws. Time seemed to pass quickly when Terry was around, Every moment filled with interesting discussion.

'Hey Hermione!' Neville called, sliding in onto Hermione's other side, Luna following behind. She was wearing her large Lion's head, along with a Ravenclaw scarf. Hermione saw Terry give Luna the once over.

'Hedging your bets?' Hermione asked Luna, as tendrils of her hair mixed in with the lion's mane.

'Oh, I'll be happy no matter who wins,' Luna replied breezily, settling herself behind Neville. 'I just hope Ron isn't as green this time.'

Hermione frowned at the thought. Terry snorted from beside her.

'It's just a Quidditch match,' he said, loftily, 'Hardly worth losing sleep over.'

Hermione could see Neville's eyebrows raise considerably. Discomfort rose in her throat. No matter what her personal feelings towards the game were, she was still there to support her she'd been grateful for Terry's presence, it now felt incongruous.

Luckily, the stands began to quickly fill, and a friend of Terry's from gobstones club settled in beside him. Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to continue their conversation after that. Time with Terry had been a very private matter up until now. She wasn't sure she quite liked having to share that with others.

All thoughts vanished as the crowd began to cheer. She watched the Ravenclaws zoom out from their section, cobalt streaks against the pale sky. The Gryffindors soon followed and Hermione's heart jumped into her throat as Ron came speeding out last, his hair whipping against the wind. The roar of the crowd hummed in her ear as he made a lap around the pitch, rushing towards the posts he would defend. His face had calmed down to a more mottled pink, and she could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek. He settled into position in front of the centre goalpost, leather clad fingers tightly gripping the broom. Darting his eyes across the crowd, they met hers suddenly.

For a moment, she was worried this would unseat him. She held her breath.

Ron's lips turned up into the warmest smile she'd seen him wear all day. She grinned back at him, grateful the earlier awkwardness had dissipated.

'Do you know what model broom Thomas is using?' Terry asked. She could feel his breath tickle her earlobe. She hadn't expected him to get so close to her.

'Sorry?' she asked, turning her head while keeping watch of Ron. The smile slid off his face and formed into a small frown.

'Thomas' broom,' Terry repeated slowly, keeping his mouth close to her face. 'Looks new.'

Hermione hadn't the faintest idea what broom Dean was using, and was about to tell him as such when a shrill whistle erupted from Hooch back on the ground.

The game was on.