Meeting at a Quidditch Pitch (6/?)
Title: Meeting at a Quidditch Pitch
Rating: T
Author: tres_blue
Genre: Gen./Humor
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters in the story, I just ask their mom/gaurdian, J.K Rowling, if they can come out and play for awhile.
Summary: A Quidditch game turns into an on going lesson for Hermione.
Beta: Rosie
Adrian had owled her the next morning to tell her he couldn’t make it to dinner and after the Quidditch game incident she had fully expected Oliver Wood, who had sent the tickets early this morning, to Floo into her living room ready to eat. She’d been disappointed when she began to cook and there was no sign of a dinner partner other than Crooks, who completely ignored her until she shook his food bag and fed him. Just as the food was done she heard the Floo flare up and she bit back a smile as she turned, expecting to see Oliver.
“‘Ello, ‘Mione. Oh, I’ve gotten here just in time then, I see.”
“Hello, Ron.”
Hermione watched as he moved to the stove and began examining the pot of pasta she had on the boil before opening the oven and inspecting the garlic bread she’d made. He let the door bang shut then stirred the sauce, licking the spoon when he was done, and then turned around to look at her with an expression that said her choice of food wasn’t up to par and he wouldn’t be staying for supper.
“So I heard you went out with Pucey,” he said, arms folded as he leaned back against the stove, careful not to knock anything over, looking very much like a disapproving older brother.
“Oh, for the… what business is that of yours, Ronald Weasley?” she asked before walking over to her cupboard and taking down a plate and a serving platter.
She knew better than to stand still and argue with him; it only ended up in a screaming match when he had something to focus on. Move enough and he’d eventually forget that he was mad and grouse about feeling dizzy from all the movement.
“What business is it of mine? You’re like my sister, Hermione, everything you do is my business!”
Okay, the movement strategy wasn’t going to work today.
“Ron, it’s not your business who I do or do not date. I’m a grown woman.”
“So you’re not denying you went on a date with him?” the redhead asked, pointing a finger at her.
“Of course I didn’t date him. That would be like dating you.” She shuddered at the thought and saw him relax a bit. “Besides, I think he’s trying to set me up with Oliver.”
“Oliver? Who’s Oliver?”
“Oliver Wood; you might remember him, he was a few years above us at Hogwarts.”
“Wood? Famous Quidditch star, Oliver Wood?” he asked, sounding - and looking - a bit stunned at that bit of news.
“Yes, that Oliver.”
“Why on earth would he set you up with him? He’s a Quidditch nut and you’re…” He paused as if selecting his next words carefully. “You’re you!” Okay, maybe not too carefully.
“For your information, Ron, Oliver has been teaching me the basics of Quidditch for the past few weeks. I know more than you think I do,” she shot back, a little upset by his words.
“Oh sure, ‘Mione, you’ve been learning Quidditch,” he scoffed before having a laugh at his own little joke.
“I even went to a Puddlemere game yesterday and followed it.” Why was she defending herself? She always had a thirst for knowledge, he knew that.
“Yeah, with Pucey,” he said, his laughter stopping and his face darkening a little at the thought of Adrian.
“No, Adrian was in Erhen’s box, I was with Oliver.”
“Why didn’t you ask me or Harry to go?” he asked, sounding a bit upset, although she was sure it was from missing out on the game and spending time with her.
“You were both busy with Lavender and Ginny. I didn’t want to intrude.” She shrugged, feeling a twinge of guilt at the lie. She really hadn’t even thought to ask either of them.
The last time she’d asked either of them to do something with her had been months ago, if not a year ago, and they had both said yes until the day, when they had to cancel because Lavender or Ginny had suddenly made plans for them and they just couldn’t get out of them. No, Hermione thought, she’d learned her lesson there.
“Well we’re not always busy with them, we still have time for you,” he said as his ears turned red - whether from lying or anger, she couldn’t tell.
She chose not to respond to that and instead walked to the oven to take out the bread before it burned, and put it on the platter. After cutting the bread into uniform slices with a slicing spell, she took her plate and spooned a bit of pasta onto it before ladling a small amount of sauce over it.
“Can you hand me a spoon and fork?” she asked, setting the plate on the table before getting the platter and sitting down.
He did as asked and took the seat across from her, leaning forward with his hands clasped on the tabletop as he attempted to stare her down.
“I have tickets to the match next week, if you’d like to go,” she offered, twirling the pasta around her fork while using the spoon as a bowl.
“When next week?” he asked after a few seconds.
“I think it’s a Thursday. The tickets are on the coffee table,” she answered, waving over her shoulder in the general direction of the living room.
“Alright then,” he said, standing up and going to get the tickets. He looked them over. “You’ve got box seats?” he asked, sounding stunned.
“Yes.”
“How’d you get box seats?”
“Oliver sent them.”
“You really went to a Quidditch match and sat with Oliver Wood?”
“I told you so before, Ronald. Did you think I was lying?” she snapped in response to his disbelieving tone.
“Well…yeah. I mean, no offense, ‘Mione, but you don’t strike me as the kind that Oliver Wood would go to a match with,” he explained with a sheepish shrug, his ears and face reddening again.
Hermione stared at him in shock then leaned over the table to snatch the tickets out of his hands. “Forget it, Ron. I’d rather you didn’t go with me. Lavender would just make up something to get you out of it anyway.”
“Wait…”
“Just leave, Ron. I’d rather be alone right now,” she said coolly before turning her attention to her dinner, completely ignoring the apology he was attempting to stutter out.
He was probably just apologizing to get into box seats at a match, anyway, she thought nastily before sighing and continuing her meal. He stayed a few more minutes, then sighed himself and stood up to leave.
“I am sorry, ‘Mione. You know I talk before I think sometimes,” he offered one more time before he walked out of the kitchen and Hermione heard ‘The Burrow’ and the Floo opening and closing to let him leave.
“What an ass,” she growled to Crooks, who had just ambled into the kitchen. “I’m not the type of girl Oliver Wood would be seen with. How insensitive!”
She huffed when her familiar didn’t seem more sympathetic and pushed her plate away, her appetite ruined by the visit. She waved her wand to start the cleaning process then moved to the living room to curl up with a book she’d just bought that afternoon on her lunch break.
“Hermione!”
She started at her name being called then rushed to the door when someone began pounding on it. Who on earth would be pounding on her door at this time of night? What would the neighbors think?
“Hermione, I just left Ron; he told me what he said.”
Harry.
“What do you want, Harry?” she asked as she opened the door and stepped aside to let him in.
“I just wanted to apologize for him. You know how he is. Ginny and Lavender are yelling at him as we speak,” the raven-haired wizard informed her as they stood awkwardly by the door, which she had yet to close.
“I doubt Lavender’s yelling at him for his behavior towards me. She wants out of the Weasley ‘dog house’ and he’s just mucked it up for a good while.” She snorted, then gave a disgusted sigh when Harry’s expression told her that was exactly why that particular argument was taking place.
“You know it’s not like that, Hermione. She’s just….Lavender.”
What a mess this night was turning out to be. She rolled her eyes at his words and looked to the book she’d started, and then to the open door. She felt a twinge of guilt when she realized she would have had a better time if Adrian, or even Oliver at a stretch, had arrived while she was eating rather than Ron. She looked at Harry and sighed as she realized how far apart they had all grown. She only saw them really at birthdays and sometimes for the odd lunch, if the girls had canceled on them, and she couldn’t really say that she missed them. She missed having someone to talk to whenever she had a problem (Adrian did have a life of his own) and she couldn’t remember the last time one of the boys had just come over to have a nice chat. Even tonight Ron had come to find out what she’d been doing with Adrian.
“Yes, Harry, I know how Lavender is. I’d rather not talk about this tonight.”
“Hermione, you know we love you. We hadn’t realized how busy we’ve gotten, Ron with Lav, Ginny with me and you with your work. We just want to know what’s going on in your life and then we hear that you’ve taken up with Pucey and…” he tried explaining again, which only aggravated her.
“I haven’t ‘taken up’ with Adrian, Harry. We’re friends. You both act as if I’m cheating on you somehow by having a friend to talk to.”
“We would never think that, Hermione. It’s just that Pucey was in-”
“Just leave it, Harry. I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she snapped, stamping her foot to get the point across.
He closed his mouth, but still looked as if he wanted to finish the thought. She ran a hand through her hair and gave a frustrated sigh before she managed to calm herself enough to talk to him without wanting to draw blood with her words.
“I think it would be best if we left this alone for a few days. Maybe get together for lunch one day next week to talk it out,” she suggested, putting a hand on his arm and leading him towards the door. He’d always preferred to Apparate rather than Floo.
“Alright, ‘Mione. I’ll owl you when I know for sure when we’re free,” he promised before he walked outside and headed to the corner to Apparate.
After he left she read some of her book then turned in to get a good night’s sleep before driving to her parents’ house the next day. She woke refreshed and on the way to her childhood home she actually sang along to the radio, something she usually didn’t do, when she heard a song she’d heard a few weeks before, and which had stuck in her head. Brunch was relaxing, listening as her mother and father bickered like a couple twice as old and then shared a laugh at an inside joke. When it was time to go she declined the usual offer to stay the night and made her way home, radio turned down as she thought about the previous day and possible ways the lunch date could go. Hermione had just opened the door to her home when an owl flew in and perched on the sofa, its leg out for her to take its message.
“Let me get you a treat,” she said after taking her scroll.
She walked into the kitchen and got the treat, tossing it to the bird as it flew past her to settle on her chair, then sat to examine the delivery. It was a small scrap of parchment that had been fastened with spellotape.
“What’s happened to his other owl?” she muttered, breaking the seal and unrolling the parchment.
Hermione,
I wanted to make sure you received the tickets, and to remind you that I will be playing and that my mum and brother will be in the box with you.
Oliver
Hermione re-read the letter a few times and shook her head at the bluntness of it. He wasn’t one to make sure a letter flowed well, that was for sure.
“I suppose you were instructed to wait for an answer?” she asked, looking up at the owl, who puffed out its feathers a bit in what she assumed to be pride at being trusted with such a job.
After rummaging in her junk drawer for a spare bit of parchment and a self filling quill she sat down to write a response.
Oliver,
Yes, I’ve gotten the tickets and thank you for them, although I was under the impression that you had to overlook your brother last time to get me the tickets. I look forward to the game.
Hermione
She sealed it and carefully tied it to the owl’s outstretched leg then went to open the window to let it fly out. When the owl was nothing but a speck in the sky she walked into her room to change into her ‘Saturday clothes’, which consisted of a pair of black, stretchy athletic pants and a white, long-sleeved shirt that had been a gift from Adrian after he’d seen her original Saturday shirt - a very red one with a lion on it.
“Come on, Crooks. Let’s go laze about,” she said as she picked up the familiar from the middle of her bed, where he had been sleeping, and took him into the living room before lying down on the couch and laying him down on her stomach.
She fluffed the throw pillows behind her head and waved a hand towards the wireless radio in the corner, turning it on and to a station that played soothing music. As she relaxed she cataloged what she would do the next week, something that always put her at ease, and smiled when she mentally ticked off Thursday because of the game. Maybe Adrian was rubbing off on her, she thought as she crossed out Friday as well.
“Well,” she muttered with a smile as she absently rubbed Crooks between his ears gently, “if you’re going to do something you might as well do it right.”
Rating: T
Author: tres_blue
Genre: Gen./Humor
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters in the story, I just ask their mom/gaurdian, J.K Rowling, if they can come out and play for awhile.
Summary: A Quidditch game turns into an on going lesson for Hermione.
Beta: Rosie
Adrian had owled her the next morning to tell her he couldn’t make it to dinner and after the Quidditch game incident she had fully expected Oliver Wood, who had sent the tickets early this morning, to Floo into her living room ready to eat. She’d been disappointed when she began to cook and there was no sign of a dinner partner other than Crooks, who completely ignored her until she shook his food bag and fed him. Just as the food was done she heard the Floo flare up and she bit back a smile as she turned, expecting to see Oliver.
“‘Ello, ‘Mione. Oh, I’ve gotten here just in time then, I see.”
“Hello, Ron.”
Hermione watched as he moved to the stove and began examining the pot of pasta she had on the boil before opening the oven and inspecting the garlic bread she’d made. He let the door bang shut then stirred the sauce, licking the spoon when he was done, and then turned around to look at her with an expression that said her choice of food wasn’t up to par and he wouldn’t be staying for supper.
“So I heard you went out with Pucey,” he said, arms folded as he leaned back against the stove, careful not to knock anything over, looking very much like a disapproving older brother.
“Oh, for the… what business is that of yours, Ronald Weasley?” she asked before walking over to her cupboard and taking down a plate and a serving platter.
She knew better than to stand still and argue with him; it only ended up in a screaming match when he had something to focus on. Move enough and he’d eventually forget that he was mad and grouse about feeling dizzy from all the movement.
“What business is it of mine? You’re like my sister, Hermione, everything you do is my business!”
Okay, the movement strategy wasn’t going to work today.
“Ron, it’s not your business who I do or do not date. I’m a grown woman.”
“So you’re not denying you went on a date with him?” the redhead asked, pointing a finger at her.
“Of course I didn’t date him. That would be like dating you.” She shuddered at the thought and saw him relax a bit. “Besides, I think he’s trying to set me up with Oliver.”
“Oliver? Who’s Oliver?”
“Oliver Wood; you might remember him, he was a few years above us at Hogwarts.”
“Wood? Famous Quidditch star, Oliver Wood?” he asked, sounding - and looking - a bit stunned at that bit of news.
“Yes, that Oliver.”
“Why on earth would he set you up with him? He’s a Quidditch nut and you’re…” He paused as if selecting his next words carefully. “You’re you!” Okay, maybe not too carefully.
“For your information, Ron, Oliver has been teaching me the basics of Quidditch for the past few weeks. I know more than you think I do,” she shot back, a little upset by his words.
“Oh sure, ‘Mione, you’ve been learning Quidditch,” he scoffed before having a laugh at his own little joke.
“I even went to a Puddlemere game yesterday and followed it.” Why was she defending herself? She always had a thirst for knowledge, he knew that.
“Yeah, with Pucey,” he said, his laughter stopping and his face darkening a little at the thought of Adrian.
“No, Adrian was in Erhen’s box, I was with Oliver.”
“Why didn’t you ask me or Harry to go?” he asked, sounding a bit upset, although she was sure it was from missing out on the game and spending time with her.
“You were both busy with Lavender and Ginny. I didn’t want to intrude.” She shrugged, feeling a twinge of guilt at the lie. She really hadn’t even thought to ask either of them.
The last time she’d asked either of them to do something with her had been months ago, if not a year ago, and they had both said yes until the day, when they had to cancel because Lavender or Ginny had suddenly made plans for them and they just couldn’t get out of them. No, Hermione thought, she’d learned her lesson there.
“Well we’re not always busy with them, we still have time for you,” he said as his ears turned red - whether from lying or anger, she couldn’t tell.
She chose not to respond to that and instead walked to the oven to take out the bread before it burned, and put it on the platter. After cutting the bread into uniform slices with a slicing spell, she took her plate and spooned a bit of pasta onto it before ladling a small amount of sauce over it.
“Can you hand me a spoon and fork?” she asked, setting the plate on the table before getting the platter and sitting down.
He did as asked and took the seat across from her, leaning forward with his hands clasped on the tabletop as he attempted to stare her down.
“I have tickets to the match next week, if you’d like to go,” she offered, twirling the pasta around her fork while using the spoon as a bowl.
“When next week?” he asked after a few seconds.
“I think it’s a Thursday. The tickets are on the coffee table,” she answered, waving over her shoulder in the general direction of the living room.
“Alright then,” he said, standing up and going to get the tickets. He looked them over. “You’ve got box seats?” he asked, sounding stunned.
“Yes.”
“How’d you get box seats?”
“Oliver sent them.”
“You really went to a Quidditch match and sat with Oliver Wood?”
“I told you so before, Ronald. Did you think I was lying?” she snapped in response to his disbelieving tone.
“Well…yeah. I mean, no offense, ‘Mione, but you don’t strike me as the kind that Oliver Wood would go to a match with,” he explained with a sheepish shrug, his ears and face reddening again.
Hermione stared at him in shock then leaned over the table to snatch the tickets out of his hands. “Forget it, Ron. I’d rather you didn’t go with me. Lavender would just make up something to get you out of it anyway.”
“Wait…”
“Just leave, Ron. I’d rather be alone right now,” she said coolly before turning her attention to her dinner, completely ignoring the apology he was attempting to stutter out.
He was probably just apologizing to get into box seats at a match, anyway, she thought nastily before sighing and continuing her meal. He stayed a few more minutes, then sighed himself and stood up to leave.
“I am sorry, ‘Mione. You know I talk before I think sometimes,” he offered one more time before he walked out of the kitchen and Hermione heard ‘The Burrow’ and the Floo opening and closing to let him leave.
“What an ass,” she growled to Crooks, who had just ambled into the kitchen. “I’m not the type of girl Oliver Wood would be seen with. How insensitive!”
She huffed when her familiar didn’t seem more sympathetic and pushed her plate away, her appetite ruined by the visit. She waved her wand to start the cleaning process then moved to the living room to curl up with a book she’d just bought that afternoon on her lunch break.
“Hermione!”
She started at her name being called then rushed to the door when someone began pounding on it. Who on earth would be pounding on her door at this time of night? What would the neighbors think?
“Hermione, I just left Ron; he told me what he said.”
Harry.
“What do you want, Harry?” she asked as she opened the door and stepped aside to let him in.
“I just wanted to apologize for him. You know how he is. Ginny and Lavender are yelling at him as we speak,” the raven-haired wizard informed her as they stood awkwardly by the door, which she had yet to close.
“I doubt Lavender’s yelling at him for his behavior towards me. She wants out of the Weasley ‘dog house’ and he’s just mucked it up for a good while.” She snorted, then gave a disgusted sigh when Harry’s expression told her that was exactly why that particular argument was taking place.
“You know it’s not like that, Hermione. She’s just….Lavender.”
What a mess this night was turning out to be. She rolled her eyes at his words and looked to the book she’d started, and then to the open door. She felt a twinge of guilt when she realized she would have had a better time if Adrian, or even Oliver at a stretch, had arrived while she was eating rather than Ron. She looked at Harry and sighed as she realized how far apart they had all grown. She only saw them really at birthdays and sometimes for the odd lunch, if the girls had canceled on them, and she couldn’t really say that she missed them. She missed having someone to talk to whenever she had a problem (Adrian did have a life of his own) and she couldn’t remember the last time one of the boys had just come over to have a nice chat. Even tonight Ron had come to find out what she’d been doing with Adrian.
“Yes, Harry, I know how Lavender is. I’d rather not talk about this tonight.”
“Hermione, you know we love you. We hadn’t realized how busy we’ve gotten, Ron with Lav, Ginny with me and you with your work. We just want to know what’s going on in your life and then we hear that you’ve taken up with Pucey and…” he tried explaining again, which only aggravated her.
“I haven’t ‘taken up’ with Adrian, Harry. We’re friends. You both act as if I’m cheating on you somehow by having a friend to talk to.”
“We would never think that, Hermione. It’s just that Pucey was in-”
“Just leave it, Harry. I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she snapped, stamping her foot to get the point across.
He closed his mouth, but still looked as if he wanted to finish the thought. She ran a hand through her hair and gave a frustrated sigh before she managed to calm herself enough to talk to him without wanting to draw blood with her words.
“I think it would be best if we left this alone for a few days. Maybe get together for lunch one day next week to talk it out,” she suggested, putting a hand on his arm and leading him towards the door. He’d always preferred to Apparate rather than Floo.
“Alright, ‘Mione. I’ll owl you when I know for sure when we’re free,” he promised before he walked outside and headed to the corner to Apparate.
After he left she read some of her book then turned in to get a good night’s sleep before driving to her parents’ house the next day. She woke refreshed and on the way to her childhood home she actually sang along to the radio, something she usually didn’t do, when she heard a song she’d heard a few weeks before, and which had stuck in her head. Brunch was relaxing, listening as her mother and father bickered like a couple twice as old and then shared a laugh at an inside joke. When it was time to go she declined the usual offer to stay the night and made her way home, radio turned down as she thought about the previous day and possible ways the lunch date could go. Hermione had just opened the door to her home when an owl flew in and perched on the sofa, its leg out for her to take its message.
“Let me get you a treat,” she said after taking her scroll.
She walked into the kitchen and got the treat, tossing it to the bird as it flew past her to settle on her chair, then sat to examine the delivery. It was a small scrap of parchment that had been fastened with spellotape.
“What’s happened to his other owl?” she muttered, breaking the seal and unrolling the parchment.
Hermione,
I wanted to make sure you received the tickets, and to remind you that I will be playing and that my mum and brother will be in the box with you.
Oliver
Hermione re-read the letter a few times and shook her head at the bluntness of it. He wasn’t one to make sure a letter flowed well, that was for sure.
“I suppose you were instructed to wait for an answer?” she asked, looking up at the owl, who puffed out its feathers a bit in what she assumed to be pride at being trusted with such a job.
After rummaging in her junk drawer for a spare bit of parchment and a self filling quill she sat down to write a response.
Oliver,
Yes, I’ve gotten the tickets and thank you for them, although I was under the impression that you had to overlook your brother last time to get me the tickets. I look forward to the game.
Hermione
She sealed it and carefully tied it to the owl’s outstretched leg then went to open the window to let it fly out. When the owl was nothing but a speck in the sky she walked into her room to change into her ‘Saturday clothes’, which consisted of a pair of black, stretchy athletic pants and a white, long-sleeved shirt that had been a gift from Adrian after he’d seen her original Saturday shirt - a very red one with a lion on it.
“Come on, Crooks. Let’s go laze about,” she said as she picked up the familiar from the middle of her bed, where he had been sleeping, and took him into the living room before lying down on the couch and laying him down on her stomach.
She fluffed the throw pillows behind her head and waved a hand towards the wireless radio in the corner, turning it on and to a station that played soothing music. As she relaxed she cataloged what she would do the next week, something that always put her at ease, and smiled when she mentally ticked off Thursday because of the game. Maybe Adrian was rubbing off on her, she thought as she crossed out Friday as well.
“Well,” she muttered with a smile as she absently rubbed Crooks between his ears gently, “if you’re going to do something you might as well do it right.”