His Angel
by Hermiones Twin

Rating: G
Ship: Harry & Hermione
Canon: Books 1 - 5
Genre: Romance
Status: Complete
Length: 881 words in 1 chapter
Published: 3 Jun 2004
Last updated: 3 Jun 2004

A very short and fluffy Quidditch drabble. How can Quidditch be fluffy, you ask? Read and find out.

From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/2274/

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1. His Angel

Disclaimer: Nope, nope, nope, not mine. Nothing that you read here is mine. Shame, isn’t it?

Author's Note: I’m a really big Quidditch fan, so here’s a little fluffy Quidditch drabble. It’s short, so don’t say I
didn’t warn you.

His Angel

Harry soared around the Quidditch pitch searching for the little gold speck which would end the match. "C'mon," he
muttered to himself as he zoomed past the three golden hoops on Gryffindor's end.

It was the annual Gryffindor versus Slytherin match and everyone had been there since eleven. Four hours later, everyone
was still there, watching and waiting to see the outcome. It was quite possibly the longest match Harry had ever played
in. But what was worse was that Slytherin took every chance it got to sing "Weasley is Our King" as loud as possible and
every time they did, Draco Malfoy would fly over and sneer at Harry.

He sighed as one of the Slytherin Chasers (he couldn't tell which) plowed the Quaffle through the middle hoop.

"Slytherin scores!" yelled Colin Creevey, who had taken over the commentating job this year. "That makes the score
two-ten to one-ninety, Slytherin."

Harry frowned. The least Colin could do was try not sound as enthusiastic about it. His House was losing, after all.

Malfoy flew around Harry, laughing, as below Pansy Parkinson conducted yet another chorus of "Weasley is Our King." Over
at the Gryffindor goal posts, Ron was obviously trying to shake off the last goal.

At least he isn't trying to beat himself up, Harry thought as he did another lap around the pitch.

Another half-hour passed with nothing. Slytherin had pulled away and now was leading 290 to 210. Harry watched in agony
as the Quaffle was stolen from Katie Bell and passed off quickly.

"Great game of Quidditch, isn't it Potter?" Malfoy sneered as he flew up near Harry. "You're going to have to catch the
Snitch just to save your team from a humiliating defeat to just a plain loss." To emphasize his statement, the bell
signifying a goal sounded throughout the stadium, followed up by Colin Creevey yelling, "Goal! Slytherin's up by
ninety!"

"It isn't over yet, Malfoy," Harry called back. "You're only up by ninety. If it were one hundred and sixty, then I'd be
nervous."

Malfoy scowled. "We'll be there soon enough, Potter!"

Just then, Gryffindor scored. Harry smirked. "Sure you will," he said and flew off.

The match continued for another ten minutes, with Ron letting in three more goals. Harry zoomed past the Gryffindor
stands, where he could see Hagrid with his large binoculars, Seamus looking disgusted, Neville groaning, and Hermione,
who was watching him. He gave her a small wave as he passed.

Suddenly, as he looked back towards the game, he saw it: the Golden Snitch, fluttering closely around the Gryffindor
goal posts. He dived and, not to his surprise, so did Malfoy.

Harry grit his teeth as he flew, trying to go faster. The Snitch suddenly veered off away from the goal posts and
towards the middle of the field. Harry quickly changed directions and flew after it, Malfoy practically on his heels.

"Faster!" he growled at his Firebolt as the Snitch pelted away. He could feel every Gryffindor eye on him, hoping,
praying...

He reached out his hand. Above him, he heard a shrill whistle. Before he had time to wonder, a Bludger tore up from
behind and hit him directly in the back of the head. He closed his eyes as he saw stars and felt incredibly dizzy. The
last thing he felt was something in his hand as darkness overtook him...

* * *

"Harry?" The voice, it sounded so distant. "Harry?" It was coming closer. "Harry?" What a beautiful sound; so sweet and
so kind. "Harry?" Didn't he know that voice? "Harry?" It was beginning to sound distressed. No, don't be sad. "Harry?"
It was so familiar. He had to open his eyes to see who the voice belonged to. "Harry?" He had to open his eyes.

And he did. He could not see the face that the voice belonged to clearly, but saw the light that surrounded her and her
beautiful hair.

I'm dead, thought Harry, and this is my angel who has come to deliver me to Heaven.

"Harry?" He recognized that voice. "Please, speak to me."

He blinked several times and his angel, his beautiful angel, moved closer. He could make out her features now; her soft
brown eyes and her bushy brown hair.

Wait a minute...bushy?

"Hermione?" he breathed.

She let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "Yes, it's me. Oh Harry, you had us so worried."

His angel, his beautiful angel, was his best friend.

"Come on Harry, let's get you to Madam Pomfrey," she was saying, taking a hold of his arm.

He wasn't dead. He felt something flutter in his hand. Looking down, he saw the Snitch. The damn thing had almost cost
him his life, but he had been brought back by the young woman who was there at his side, like she always had been.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said when he got up, "for everything."

She smiled and helped him back to the castle. From that day onward, Harry never forgot who his angel truly was.
