I.
He had no idea what a picture he made. It was ridiculous. She had to admit that the fact that he was so completely lacking in vanity was one of the things that made him so attractive to her, and to just about every other girl in Hogwarts Castle, but how fair was that? Here he stood, in the middle of the field, strapping on one of those leather glove things that the Quidditch players wore-- the kind that left their fingers sticking out--not having any clue that teenaged witches as far as the eye could see were nearly swooning to see him strapping on his Quidditch gear like some knight preparing for battle. The swish of his red robes, the flash of his green eyes, the blur they would see as he sped by on the broom that was his most treasured possession- all those things would set their hearts pounding as they crowded into the stands, and it wouldn't matter what house they lived in; every girl there was secretly hoping for Harry Potter to win again.
Hermione had to wonder what they wanted from him. She knew he had money, she knew he was good-looking, she knew he was a hero, but was that all they saw in him? Probably. She doubted there was a single person in the stands today who knew him the way she knew him. Even Ron, who was still out with his injuries, didn't understand him like she did. She sighed, then put her thoughts aside as she brought her binoculars up to her eyes and began to cheer with the rest of the Gryffindor team.
II.
Harry tightened the strap of his glove and strode forward to where Madam Hooch stood next to the trunk of Quidditch balls. Instinctively he searched the stands for a curly brown head as the other six red-robed Gryffindors fell into step behind him. They approached the midfield line, never taking their eyes off the green-clad Slytherins who walked up from the opposite direction. The problem with this team, Harry thought grimly, was that you just couldn't trust them not to cheat. He hoped it wouldn't be a problem for his rather inexperienced reserve Keeper, who was thrilled to get a chance to play with Ron out, but Harry knew that when you played the Slytherins, anything that could go wrong, would.
"Now," said Madam Hooch, "I want a nice, clean game. Captains, shake hands."
It was a tribute to his love for Quidditch that Harry was able to shake hands with Malfoy. Malfoy's light eyes glittered with hatred, and Harry's green ones reflected it back.
"Too bad your parents couldn't be here today, Malfoy," Harry remarked quietly as he shook Malfoy's hand and released it as quickly as sportsmanship would allow. Malfoy's face went white, then flushed red.
"You'll pay for that, Potter," Malfoy growled, offering his usual quick comeback.
"No, Malfoy, you'll pay for it, since your parents aren't available any time soon. Nobody hurts friends of mine and gets away with it." Harry spoke calmly, he didn't threaten, and he didn't give reign to the fierce rage that shook him whenever he thought of Ron and Ginny being attacked by Narcissa Malfoy. Ginny had recovered and was playing today, he could feel her behind him sending razor sharp looks of hatred at Malfoy as well, but Ron was still out, and nobody knew when he'd be playing again. It could have been worse, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath to help him focus. If it hadn't been for Hermione, they'd have both died.
Madam Hooch blew her whistle and released the Quidditch balls, and the two teams kicked into the air. As Slytherin Captain, Malfoy could have changed the position he played, but he continued to play Seeker, which Harry thought was stupid. It always pitted him against Harry and he always lost. Harry wasn't conceited about his Quidditch ability, but he knew that he was simply a better Seeker than anyone else in the school, and Malfoy had never beaten him, not once in the six years they'd been playing against each other.
The game continued on, while Harry flew around the borders of the pitch, keeping his sharp eyes out for the Snitch and keeping an eye on his teammates. They were playing very well, but Slytherin was scoring more points than Ron would have let in. Fortunately, Ginny and the other Chasers were making up for it by scoring with the Quaffle. Those three were world-class, Harry thought, watching from above as they passed the Quaffle back and forth with deliberate force and lightning speed. He was going to recommend that McGonagall make Ginny Quidditch Captain next year.
The crowd booed as a Slytherin fouled Ginny, intercepted the Quaffle, and scored. Madam Hooch hadn't seen the foul, so Slytherin got the points, and the Quaffle went back to Ginny, who scored again for Gryffindor before the Slytherins even realized the ball was back in play.
The game continued on, but the Snitch did not make an appearance. Just for fun, Harry tried out his recently perfected Wronski Feint, and as he had hoped, Malfoy tracked him, thinking he had seen the Snitch. He zoomed straight down, nearly ninety degrees to the ground, and pulled the Firebolt up at the last minute, causing Malfoy to plow. Madam Hooch had to stop the game for five minutes while Malfoy's bloody nose was cleaned up, and during that time the Gryffindors took a break and Harry scoped out the pitch for the Snitch. As he was looking around, he saw Hermione waving at him from the stands where she sat with the other Gryffindors, and he smiled and waved at her. Knowing she was there made him feel good, for some reason.
The next thirty seconds happened so fast nobody knew what was going on. The whistle blew, Harry kicked off and flew high above the pitch, Malfoy followed, and Harry dived again, as though he were doing the Wronski Feint, but this time he really had seen the Snitch far below. "Nice try, Potter," Malfoy sneered, apparently refusing to be fooled again, but Harry just kept going. He heard Hermione scream and Malfoy curse as he came within inches of the ground, but he grabbed the Snitch and pulled out of the dive, skidding to a halt in the center of the field, and holding the Snitch above his head. The whistle blew again, and Madam Hooch declared Gryffindor the winners, again, 310 to 110. Harry's eyes searched the stands until he saw Hermione, who was cheering herself hoarse and jumping up and down. It was a rare sight to see the Head Girl lose her cool like that, and Harry grinned up at her.
III.
She hated that Ron wasn't up to playing yet, but at least he was alive. He'd have loved to have been allowed to at least come and watch, because he and Harry shared both their love of Quidditch and their hatred of Malfoy. Hermione knew that even if Ron couldn't play, he'd at least have cheered Malfoy's defeat. So, she did her best to cheer loudly enough for two of them. With the adrenaline still pumping through her, Hermione forced her way down through the stands and let herself be carried along with the crowd that was surging onto the field. She was still cheering, but rolled her eyes to see that the crowd surrounding Harry was made up almost entirely of girls, even some first and second years who hero-worshiped Harry like they would a movie star. Since he was considerably taller than they were, she was able to catch his eye over their heads, and he smiled with relief and fought his way through them and over to her. His hair looked even wilder than usual and his cheeks were pink from the crisp late-winter air. She wanted to run and throw her arms around his neck, she was feeling so good from the game and so proud of him, but she didn't. They were friends, at least as far as Harry was concerned. They didn't do things like that. Harry slung a friendly arm around her shoulder and bent down to speak into her ear, "Please save me! I can't get away. What do they want from me?"
"I've wondered that myself," Hermione told him, shaking her head. "Come on, let's get out of here." She pulled him away from the group of girls and toward the locker rooms, earning glares from nearly every feminine eye on the field. She allowed herself a moment of smugness- they might just be friends, but she was the only girl he'd allow to pull him away with her.
Finally they reached the comparative quiet of the locker rooms. "Let me shower, then I'll come up with you," Harry said to Hermione. She nodded and he ran off into the shower room, unbuttoning his red robes as he went. Ginny came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Hi, there!" she said, with a huge grin on her face.
"Hi, Ginny!" Hermione said, grinning back. "Great game! I don't think I've ever seen such a high final score!"
"Thanks," Ginny said, trying and failing to look modest. "Well, we have a good team this year."
"Yes, but you scored even more points than Harry this game," Hermione told her.
Ginny grinned again. "Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Both girls laughed. Harry came out of the shower room at that moment, dressed in his regular school robes, rubbing his black hair with a towel. "You going up to see Ron?" Ginny asked Harry and Hermione.
"Yeah," Harry said. "He'll want to know how badly we beat Malfoy."
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