fire and the flood

by headingsouth

Summary:

After an accident leaves England without a team for the Quidditch World Cup, Hermione Granger is given an opportunity to play for the new team. Unfortunately for her, her long time rival Narcissa Black is also on the team.
---
Narcissa was glaring at all of them, but her gaze kept drifting back to Hermione in particular, full of hatred.

“I take it back,” Hermione mumbled, only loud enough for Ginny to hear, “This is going to be awful.”

Chapter 1

Hermione stepped into The Three Broomsticks and shivered at the warm blast of air that greeted her, a welcome change from the pouring rain she was caught in on her way there. She shrugged off her coat and dried it with a spell before she hung it on the stand at the door, then pulled her drenched hair out of her face and repeated the spell on herself.

She had to squeeze through the large groups of Quidditch fans that were taking up the entire pub until she found her friends huddled around their usual table. There was a small radio in the middle of the table projecting miniature versions of the English and German players while the commentator’s voice spilled out, describing the game as it was being played.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, sliding into the empty seat next to Ginny. “I haven’t missed much, have I?”

“No, not really. They only started a few minutes ago, but England are ahead already, 30 points to 10,” Ginny answered, sliding a Butterbeer across the table to Hermione. “Bet you can’t guess who’s scored all three goals so far.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a sip from her glass before responding. “Black, I suppose? Merlin, as much as I want England to qualify, I can’t stand the idea of her getting to play in the World Cup.”

“Jealous much?” Ron teased. When Hermione tried to deny his accusation, he simply raised an eyebrow, making her sigh in defeat.

“Okay, fine, maybe a little,” Hermione relented. “It’s not just that though. I can already picture that smug look on her face the next time I see her. She’ll be insufferable if she makes it on to that team when I didn’t even get through tryouts.”

“It’s only a matter of experience,” Harry said, giving Hermione a sympathetic smile. “I mean, we all did really well at the tryouts, but these players have been on the pitch longer than we have. That’s why none of us got picked.”

“Harry’s right,” Ginny agreed. “I mean, why else would four brilliant Quidditch players not be picked?”

Hermione chuckled and turned her attention to the radio after hearing the commentator announce that Germany had pulled ahead of England by 10 points while they were talking. A groan made its way around the room, but the disappointment was short lived.

“Germany has the Quaffle in possession again. Wagner is making his way across the pitch, but he’s almost knocked off his broom by a Bludger from Lestrange and he drops the Quaffle. Carrow passes to Black… Black scores!”

Hermione took another sip from her Butterbeer, but it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Although she knew Harry was right, that Narcissa was years ahead of her in terms of experience, she couldn’t help feeling like she should be on that team too. Hermione had always been able to compete with Narcissa without too much struggle. Surely that had to count for something.

She pushed those thoughts out of her mind and tried to focus on the bright side. As much as Hermione disliked Narcissa, she couldn’t deny that she was one of the best players she had gone up against in her short career with the Holyhead Harpies. At least England would have a real chance at winning if they did qualify for the World Cup.

“Schmidt takes a shot at England’s goals, but it’s blocked by Rookwood! Black takes the Quaffle. She passes to Carrow – On to Dolohov – Dolohov scores! England are in the lead again with 50 points to 40.”

“Looks like it’ll be a close game,” Ginny said. “They’ve been tied practically the whole time.”

“England will pull ahead,” Ron said confidently, then added in a doubtful whisper, “They’ve got to.”

“How much money will you lose if they don’t?” Ginny asked with a small smirk on her face.

Ron’s ears turned a light shade of pink and he mumbled something too quiet for them to hear while keeping his eyes glued to his Butterbeer in front of him. Harry grinned like he already knew the answer, but he didn’t say anything.

“Sorry, what was that?” Ginny asked, cupping her hand around her ear, holding back a laugh as her brother turned an even darker shade of red. “I couldn’t quite hear you. Could you speak up a little?”

“Alright, fine!” Ron huffed. “I bet Fred and George 15 Galleons that England would win by at least 200 points.”

“15 Galleons total, or 15 Galleons each, Ron?” Hermione asked. She didn’t even have to wait for Ron’s response to know the answer, given the way he buried his face in his hands.

“Ron!” Ginny gasped, leaning across the table and smacking the side of his head. “Are you serious?”

“Look, it’s not that bad when you think about it,” Harry said, trying to stifle his amusement at his friend’s embarrassment. “They just need to be at least 50 points ahead when they catch the Snitch. There’s a good chance of that happening.”

“Ordinarily, you’d probably be right,” Hermione agreed, “But Germany are keeping the scores really close so far. England will need to be at the top of their game to pull ahead, even by that much.”

As if on cue, the commentator’s voice piped up again. “Dolohov takes a Bludger to the shoulder and gets knocked off course. Schmidt steals the Quaffle from him… And she scores! Germany has tied with England once again with 50 points to 50.”

“I should’ve known there was something up,” Ron groaned. “Fred and George would never make a bet so simple.”

He looked across the room to where the twins were watching the game with Lee Jordan. George caught his eye and winked like he knew exactly what Ron was thinking. Fred glanced over too and flipped a Galleon in the air, taunting his younger brother with a sly grin.

“Hermione, I know you hate her,” Ron said, turning away from his brothers, ”But if I win this bet, Black might just become my new best friend. You should get used to being around her more.”

Hermione hummed, tilting her head as if considering the possibility. “Well, in that case, I hope you lose.”

Ron fell back against his chair, defeated. The match continued on with the two teams scoring points almost in turn, keeping them neck-and-neck for the better part of an hour. Ron seemed to lose hope of ever winning his bet with every goal Germany scored and it wasn’t until Narcissa scored 30 points in a row that he perked up a bit.

“Come on,” he urged quietly, watching the little players zooming back and forth across the table. “Just two more goals.”

“Krause has taken a sudden dive towards the pitch now. Is it possible that he’s seen the Snitch? Yes! It’s difficult to see but it’s definitely there. Rosier is trying to catch up with him, but Krause has gotten a significant head start and seems to be closing in on the Snitch…”

The tiny version of the German Seeker was stretching his hand out, only a couple of feet away from the Snitch, while Rosier was leaning so far forward on his broom it looked like he might fall off at any moment. He managed to close in on Krause and tried to shove him off course, but Krause held his balance.

“No, no, no,” Ron hissed. His face was pale as the prospect of losing 30 Galleons was becoming more real by the second.

“Meyer seems to have gotten distracted by the commotion with the two Seekers above him and has managed to let Carrow score again! It’s now 120-80, leaving England ahead by 40 points. If Krause doesn’t catch the Snitch now, it could all be over for Germany.”

Every conversation in The Three Broomsticks died down while people watched the two Seekers racing towards their ticket to the World Cup. Lestrange sent a Bludger hurtling towards Krause, but he dodged it easily without letting Rosier take the lead even for a second.

“Although Lestrange’s Bludger misses its original target, it does hit Meyer in the chest, knocking him from his broom! He grabs the handle just in time, but struggles to get himself back up. Black takes full advantage of the opportunity to score again! And if I’m not mistaken… Rosier has caught the Snitch! England wins at 280 points to 80, which means they will advance on to this year’s World Cup!”

The entire pub erupted into cheers and Ron immediately leapt out of his seat and pushed his way through the crowd to collect payment from his brothers, who looked like the only two people in the room that weren’t celebrating England’s win. Even Hermione was able to push aside the jealousy that was gnawing at her before and enjoy the moment. This was the first time England had qualified for the World Cup in years.

The live projection from their radio zoomed out to show the full stadium once the English players finished their victory lap, just in time to show a round of fireworks being set off from the centre of the pitch. Fans were jumping up and down in the stands, waving England’s flag and singing their hearts out. The German players shook hands with the English before both teams made their way back to their changing rooms.

“Next round’s on me!” Ron called out, holding up the Galleons he won from Fred and George as he passed by the group. “Or, on Fred and George, really.”

“Fantastic,” Ginny said once Ron was well out of earshot. “Now he’ll never stop making bets against them. He’ll be broke by the end of the World Cup.”

“Wait, I think something’s happening,” Hermione said, shushing her friends. She pointed to the image of the stadium, where the music came to a sudden halt and the fans were looking around, trying to figure out what was going on. The fireworks were still going, but they weren’t firing in the controlled manner they had been before. Some of them were only reaching a few feet into the air before crashing back into the ground and zooming around the pitch, still lit.

”There seems to be a bit of trouble out on the pitch, a few of those fireworks seem to have spun out of control… Hang on, that one looks awfully close to – Oh, Merlin!”

The unmistakable sound of an explosion was heard, amplified by the dozens of radios scattered around The Three Broomsticks, and the live view of the pitch was cut off seconds after. Everyone fell silent, exchanging nervous looks with each other and it seemed as though nobody even took a breath until the commentator spoke up again, his shaky voice barely audible over the commotion at the stadium.

”A round of fireworks has just collided with one of the towers, causing it to catch fire with the English team still inside. There’s no sign of them yet, but we’re hopeful that they’ll be able to get out soon.”

Hermione heard a sharp gasp from a table nearby and immediately recognised the two women sitting there. The first, Andromeda, had one hand clamped over her mouth while the other was gripping her older sister’s arm so tightly that Hermione was certain her nails would draw blood. Both of them were frozen, staring wide-eyed at their radio.

“Aren’t they–?”

“Narcissa’s sisters,” Hermione finished Ron’s question in a whisper. “Yeah, that’s them.”

”Bystanders are doing their best to help put out the fire, but it’s spreading quickly. There’s already a significant amount of damage to the building. It looks like the German team are actually going inside the building now to help the English players, despite protests from the Medics on scene.”

“Why don’t they just Apparate out?” Hermione heard someone at another table ask.

“Their wands were confiscated before the match, remember? They might not have them back yet,” his friend answered.

“They could’ve been injured in the explosion,” a third man suggested grimly. “Or worse. It does look like the fireworks hit the tower right where the changing rooms are…”

“It’ll take a miracle for anyone to get out of there alive, I reckon,” the first man said. “Those Germans are idiots for going in after them.”

A loud crash interrupted the conversation as Bellatrix jumped from her stool, sending it flying to the ground behind her, and drew her wand. Andromeda stood too, but only to stop her sister from cursing the three men into oblivion.

“Bella, don’t,” she said quietly, trying to pull Bellatrix’s arm down.

Bellatrix fought desperately against her sister’s grip. “Andy, they’re saying she’s–”

“Wait, Bella, listen!”

”It looks like someone is emerging from the tower. Medics are heading over to help whoever it is. It’s difficult to tell through the smoke, but I believe… Yes, it looks like one of the English players is being carried out. The German team is close behind, but it seems the rest of England’s team is still inside.”

Bellatrix lowered her wand and turned her attention back to the radio, her face pale. Andromeda was still clutching her sister’s arm as if it was her only lifeline and she was shaking like a leaf. Every head in the pub was now watching them with bated breaths, waiting to hear the identity of the first survivor.

”I’ve just received confirmation that–” The radio crackled and cut out briefly after another deafening crash. ”–Was the only English player– Moments before the tower collapsed– Six players still inside–”

Hermione exchanged a nervous glance with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. None of them could figure out what was happening through the broken statements they could hear over the sounds of the stadium falling apart.

“Fucking piece of shit radio,” Bellatrix hissed, smacking the top of her device repeatedly.

”The fire has finally been put out and people are beginning to search the wreckage, but any hope of finding the remaining six players alive seems to be fading. Medics are now tending to the players from Germany, none of whom seem to be severely injured, and Narcissa Black is being transferred to St Mungo’s for further treatment.”

Bellatrix paused, her hand hovering above the radio, and looked at Andromeda. “Did he say–”

“Cissa,” her sister confirmed in a quiet sob. “She’s alive.”

The two of them Disapparated instantly, leaving the entire pub in complete silence. Hermione couldn’t tear her eyes away from the radio, even though the commentator had stopped giving updates. Everyone seemed to be coming to the same realisation – there was no chance of the remaining English players being found alive.

---

Hermione and Ginny strolled out of the changing rooms onto the pitch they used for training, but there was none of the usual excitement or joking around from their teammates. The incident at the World Cup Qualifiers the week before was still playing on everyone’s minds.

“Is it just me or does it feel wrong that we’re just supposed to go back to training as if nothing happened?” Hermione whispered. “I mean, the funerals were only held a few days ago.”

“Right?” Ginny answered in the same hushed tone. “You’d think Gwenog would consider this a good enough reason to cancel.”

“As if. The world could be ending and Gwenog would still hunt us down if any of us dared to not show up.”

The pair fell silent as they slipped into the circle with the rest of their teammates, where their captain, Gwenog Jones, was waiting to begin. She gave Hermione and Ginny a short nod in greeting, then clapped her hands together to get the full attention of her team.

“Alright everyone,” she said when everyone quietened down, “I know this has been a tough week for everyone. The players involved in the accident are people we’ve all known and played against for years. I know some of you had friends on the team. If there’s anyone who’s struggling with what happened, you can always come speak to me and I’ll do my best to help in whatever way I can, okay?”

Gwenog took a moment to look around the circle until she was satisfied that everyone had taken in what she said. Hermione looked around too, noticing that a few of her teammates were crying silently. Most of them had even been in the same year at Hogwarts as the players that died.

Gwenog took a deep breath before continuing. “Okay, I suppose we’ll get started then. We’re going to take it easy today, so start with the usual warm-ups and we’ll meet back here in ten minutes to go through…”

Her voice trailed off and her eyes drifted past the team in front of her. Hermione turned around with the rest of the team to face the newcomer, then looked at Ginny with a furrowed brow. Oliver Wood was walking across the pitch towards them.

Hermione remembered him from Hogwarts. After he graduated during her third year, he went on to play for Puddlemere United for a few years, until he was injured during a game and had to retire. He stayed on as the team’s trainer for a while before moving up the ranks to his current position as manager of England’s National team.

“Sorry to interrupt, Gwenog,” Oliver said, stopping next to the captain. He raised a hand in greeting and gave a tight-lipped smile to the rest of the team before returning his attention to Gwenog.

“It’s no problem at all, Oliver.” Gwenog shifted on her feet, her mouth opening and closing a few times without sound, like she was searching for the right words to say. “We were all so sorry to hear about your team. If there’s anything we can do…”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” Oliver sighed heavily. “That’s sort of why I’m here. If I could have a moment alone?”

“Of course.” Gwenog dismissed the team with a wave of her hand. “Weasley, you’re leading the warm-up tonight. You know the drill.”

“Actually,” Oliver said, “I was hoping Weasley could stay. Granger, too.”

Hermione and Ginny shared another confused look, similar to the one their captain was now wearing, but none of them protested. Gwenog passed on Ginny’s duties to another player, then followed Oliver to the sidelines. He leaned against the stands with his arms folded over his chest, but didn’t say a word. He seemed to be struggling with how to say whatever it was he wanted to.

After a couple of minutes in silence, he finally spoke up. “Look, I’ve been trying to find an easy way to go about this, but I’m not sure there is one. The committee in charge of the World Cup has been putting pressure on me to either forfeit or… Or put together a new team to compete with.”

“Seriously?” Hermione scoffed. “They don’t think that’s a little insensitive?”

Oliver shrugged. “They’re sympathetic, of course, but their hands are tied. They can’t exactly force us out of the competition since we did qualify, so they need me to make a decision by the end of this week. At first, I was ready to just forfeit. I didn’t think it would be right to just replace the team and continue on for the sake of a competition. But then, I got to thinking and maybe this could also be a way to honour their memories. They put so much work into training for this over the last few years in order to qualify and I just… I don’t want it all to be for nothing, you know? So I spoke to the families about it today and they agreed.”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. She stole a glance in Ginny’s direction, finding that the younger witch was looking at Oliver with wide eyes. Hermione was almost too afraid to ask Oliver to continue, on the off chance that she might be wrong. Thankfully, Gwenog jumped in and said exactly what Hermione and Ginny were both thinking.

“Well, I suppose there’s only one reason you’d be here tonight, telling us all this,” she said slowly, watching closely for Oliver’s reaction. “Are you about to poach my two best Chasers, Wood?”

Oliver smiled apologetically and nodded. “Unless you’re about to say no?” he asked sheepishly. “I’m sorry for showing up without warning like this, but I don’t have a lot of time to make this work. I need the best players I can find and, well, Granger and Weasley fit that description. I’ve seen them play, both in Hogwarts and at the tryouts for this team four years ago. They performed exceptionally, even with the little training they had at the time, so I can imagine how much they’ve improved since then.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that. I have trained them well.” Gwenog contemplated Oliver’s words while she looked at the two players, who were both frozen in shock. “Look, I’m not going to hold them back from this kind of opportunity. Ultimately, the decision is theirs. If they want to go, they’re yours.”

It took Hermione a second to realise that both Gwenog and Oliver were now looking at her and Ginny, waiting patiently for an answer. All she could manage to do was stammer uselessly, unable to speak properly as she caught on to what they were asking. She turned to Ginny for help, but found her friend to be in a similar state.

“I don’t know about you, Oliver, but I think that’s a ‘yes’. Would you agree?” Gwenog asked, smirking at the two witches.

“Yes!” Ginny gasped, finding her voice. “It’s a yes. Definitely. From both of us, right Hermione?”

A sharp elbow to the ribs had Hermione nodding enthusiastically. The pain also served as enough proof that she wasn’t actually dreaming. They really were being offered a spot to compete in the World Cup. Hermione had been dreaming of this moment since she was a child, though she never thought this was how it would happen.

“Okay, great.” Oliver heaved a sigh of relief. “Well, just don’t get your hopes too high just yet, alright? For now, this is sort of like a trial run to help me officially make my decision. If, by the end of the week, it doesn’t look like it’s going to work out I will be pulling the plug. Understood?”

“Of- Of course.” Hermione reached out to shake his hand. “Thank you so much for the opportunity. We won’t let you down.”

“I believe you.” Oliver smiled as he shook both Chasers’ hands.

“So, when do we start?” Ginny asked.

Oliver scratched the back of his neck lightly. “How does right now sound? The rest of the recruits are already on their way.”

Hermione’s heart leapt in her chest. She thought he would’ve given them a little more time to process the decision before hauling them off to start training immediately. She understood, of course, given the tight schedule Oliver was on, but she began to grow anxious as she thought about what she’d just agreed to.

“Now is perfect,” Ginny said eagerly. “Just give us five minutes to change and we’ll be ready to go.”

“No need,” Oliver said, shaking his head. “You’re fine as you are. We haven’t got proper uniforms for you yet so I told everyone to come in their own robes. Just grab whatever you need from the changing rooms and I’ll Apparate us there.”

Once they had collected their bags from the changing rooms and returned to Oliver, Hermione looked at Gwenog for one last nod of confirmation. Hermione grabbed onto one of Oliver’s arms, while Ginny took the other.

The pitch began to spin in front of Hermione’s eyes and she screwed them shut, feeling the familiar tug in her gut. When it finally stopped, they were standing on another Quidditch pitch, almost identical to the one they had just left. The only difference was, the players standing in the centre of the pitch weren’t wearing the same green Holyhead Harpies robes as Hermione and Ginny were. Instead, there were various different team colours laid out in front of them, and a few familiar faces too. Hermione’s eyes were drawn to the two sets of bright orange robes of the Chudley Cannons first, recognising the two men immediately.

“Harry? Ron?” Hermione called out, running ahead of Ginny to greet them. “I didn’t know you two would be here. This is brilliant!”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Ron agreed, less enthusiastically than Hermione. He had one arm wrapped across his stomach and he looked a little paler than usual.

Harry gave Hermione and Ginny a quick hug and grinned. “I can’t believe we’re all here.”

“Who else did Oliver bring?” Hermione asked.

Ginny nudged Hermione then and subtly gestured towards the remaining three players on the pitch. Hermione’s stomach dropped when she recognised the black and white uniforms that belonged to the Montrose Magpies.

The three sisters were watching the group of four closely, but none of them said anything. Andromeda was the only one who smiled politely, though it looked strained. Bellatrix quickly turned her attention back to polishing the handle of her broom, clearly finding it more interesting than the other players. Narcissa was glaring at all of them, but her gaze kept drifting back to Hermione in particular, full of hatred.

“I take it back,” Hermione mumbled, only loud enough for Ginny to hear, “This is going to be awful.”

Chapter 2

“Well, this is quite the ragtag group of players, isn’t it?” Andromeda said with a half-hearted chuckle. Despite the small smile on her lips, her eyes were darting back and forth between the two groups, as if she was waiting for someone to start throwing punches – or curses.

Hermione, on the other hand, kept her focus trained solely on the other two Black sisters, neither of whom she was particularly fond of. Though her professional rivalry with Narcissa was no secret to anyone who followed the Quidditch league, few people knew that it actually started when they were in Hogwarts. They’d known each other almost ten years and even now, they could hardly stand to be in the same room as each other.

“Thank you all for agreeing to meet me tonight,” Oliver said, seeming not to notice the tension in the air. Or, if he did notice, he simply chose not to call attention to it. “You all know why we’re here, so I think it’s best if we just get right to it. For tonight, let’s keep it simple. I just want you guys to get a feel for each other, you know, see what it’s like to play on the same side for once. I’d also like to keep you all in the same positions you play on your own teams to make things as smooth as possible.”

He gestured to each player in turn as he continued. “So, Harry, you’ll be our Seeker; Ron is the Keeper; our Beaters are Bellatrix and Andromeda; and, last but not least, Narcissa, Hermione, and Ginny will be our Chasers. If anyone has any issues with that arrangement I’d be happy to try something new, but let’s just give it a go like that, alright? So, take ten minutes to warm up however you normally would, and we’ll meet back here to start.”

The group divided into two smaller ones as soon as Oliver finished, with the Black sisters moving off to one end of the pitch together while Hermione, Ginny, Harry, and Ron took to the opposite end. Oliver looked towards one group, then the other, and shook his head to himself as he pulled out a notebook and sat on the sidelines, scribbling furiously on the pages.

“Why did I not consider that she would still be on the team?” Hermione groaned as she began her usual stretches with Ginny.

“Would you have turned it down if you knew?” Ginny asked, already knowing the answer.

Hermione hesitated, mulling it over in her head. “No, probably not. It would’ve been nice to know what I was walking into though. I mean, Bellatrix and Narcissa? This is going to be a disaster.”

“Look, what’s the worst that could happen? Oliver said this was a trial run,” Ginny reminded her. “If it doesn’t work out we just go back to the Holyhead Harpies and forget this ever happened.”

“But if we can’t make this work, will that ruin any chances we have of making the team next time?” Ron asked. Harry elbowed him in the ribs, but even he made no move to argue the possibility.

“Why should it?” Hermione shrugged. “Ginny’s right, this is a test run. There’s no strings attached, so if it falls through, nobody will know but us.”

Hermione hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. The group continued their stretches in silence, giving her plenty of time to think about Ron’s question. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, what Ron said was starting to make sense. If the team fell apart within a week, who else would there be to blame, if not the players. Recruiters for any team she applied for in the future would have to take that into consideration.

A sharp whistle broke Hermione out of her spiral before she had the chance to make any rash decisions, like marching up to Oliver and quitting before they had even begun.

“Okay everyone!” Oliver shouted, beckoning both groups from the middle of the pitch, where a wooden box now lay by his feet. When all seven players had joined him, he said, “We don’t have enough players for a proper practice game like you might play at your own sessions, so it’s back to the Hogwarts days for now. Chasers, I want you three working together to score against the Keeper. Ron, you’ll be defending the goals, of course. Beaters, you will also be trying to stop the Chasers, though preferably without doing any major bodily harm.”

He laughed at his own comment, but it slowly died out when he realised he was the only one who thought it was funny. Hermione let her eyes dart across to Bellatrix and Andromeda, then threw Ginny a nervous glance. She might trust Andromeda to go easy on them, now that they were on the same team, but Bellatrix? Hermione was sure she’d have better luck against a Troll.

Oliver coughed awkwardly. “Okay then. Harry, whenever you’re not actively chasing the Snitch, I’d like for you to act as an opposing Chaser, in a way. If our Chasers score, it’s ten points, as usual. Harry, you don’t have to score any goals, but if you manage to get your hands on the Quaffle at all, the Chasers will lose ten points. The goal is for the Chasers to earn 150 points, so you’ll play until that happens, or until the Snitch is caught.”

He bent down to open the wooden box, which contained the four balls needed to play. The two Bludgers were set free first, followed shortly by the Snitch, which immediately zipped out of sight. He held the Quaffle under his arm while he instructed the players to mount their brooms.

Hermione pushed off the ground and rose into the air, rolling her shoulders back and taking a deep breath. A light wind blew through her hair and she closed her eyes for a moment, tilting her head back to feel the sun on her face and let the tension fade away. As soon as she heard Oliver’s whistle blow, she sat forward on her Firebolt, ready for him to throw the Quaffle. Unfortunately, Narcissa beat her to it and sped off with the Quaffle before Hermione even had a chance to register that the ball was in the air.

“Did I not just hear Oliver telling us we’re supposed to work together?” Ginny asked, pulling up next to Hermione. She gestured after Narcissa like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “That doesn’t look like someone who’s working as a team.”

“Oh, good, you heard it too. I was starting to think I’d gone mad,” Hermione replied sarcastically.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she was surprised. Did she really expect Narcissa to suddenly become her best friend now that they were teammates? Definitely not. Though, she could’ve at least pretended for a minute. Hermione shook her head and leaned forward, picking up speed as she followed Narcissa across the pitch.

She heard the whistling of a Bludger growing closer and ducked just in time to avoid what she imagined would’ve been a serious concussion. When she looked in the direction it came from, she expected to see Bellatrix at the other end of the bat. Instead, she found Andromeda looking back at her in concern. Andromeda was by her side in a flash, her bottom lip caught between her teeth while her eyes scanned over the Chaser.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t hit you, did I? I swear I wasn’t actually aiming for you. Well, not for your head, at least. Maybe just a shoulder or something,” she said with a sheepish grin.

“No, you didn’t.” Hermione shook her head with a quiet laugh. “You came close, though. Remind me not to get on your bad side. I’d quite like to stay out of St Mungo’s, if possible.”

Andromeda tucked her bat under her arm and held her hands up in mock surrender, balancing on her broom with ease for the few seconds that she wasn’t gripping the handle.

“I’ll do my best not to cause that.” A stray Bludger crossed their path, but Andromeda batted it away before Hermione could react and winked at the younger witch. “See?”

Hermione grinned as Andromeda flew away from her, glad to know that there was at least one Black sister who wasn’t out for blood. Her focus was brought back to Narcissa, who had just reached the set of hoops that Ron was guarding, and Hermione could practically see the Keeper shaking from where she was. She said a silent prayer, pleading with whoever might be listening to just let Ron save this one goal, knowing his nerves would likely get the best of him if he didn’t.

Either there was nobody out there that cared to grant Hermione’s wish, or Narcissa was just a good enough shot that it wouldn’t have mattered either way, because the Quaffle whizzed past Ron’s outstretched hand in the blink of an eye.

As if Harry could hear Hermione’s thoughts, he dived down next to her and let out a sigh. “This isn’t going to go well, is it?”

“I lost hope the second Oliver threw the Quaffle,” Hermione admitted. “Ron has gotten past his old stage fright, hasn’t he? This won’t knock his confidence?”

“Normally, I’d say yes. He’s always steady as a rock at our games. I mean, you’ve seen him in action.” Harry paused, his expression growing distant for a moment. “I honestly don’t know. This is a whole other level of pressure, it could take him a while to adjust. Maybe give him an easy save to get him back on his feet?”

“I will. If I ever get to touch the Quaffle, that is,” Hermione said, just as Narcissa collected the ball and circled around to take another shot, completely ignoring Ginny who was calling out to her for a pass.

“On the bright side,” Harry said with a shrug, “It looks like we won’t be missing much training with our own teams. Ten Galleons says we won’t last until Oliver’s deadline.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Ron is rubbing off on you, I see. I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“So…?” Harry prompted, stretching his right hand out towards her.

“You’re on,” Hermione said, shaking his hand.

“Granger! Potter! Get your head in the game!” Oliver shouted, having climbed up into the commentator’s stand for a better view of the pitch.

Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot and she leaned forward on her broom, taking her across the pitch without another word to Harry. She had to dodge another two Bludgers before she managed to catch up with Ginny, whose face was as red as Hermione’s felt, but unlike Hermione’s, it wasn’t out of embarrassment.

“What’s the point of even having three Chasers?” she grumbled. “Clearly Black thinks she can do everything by herself.”

Thankfully, Ginny wasn’t the only one to notice. Before Hermione had the chance to respond, their coach’s voice rang out across the pitch.

“Black!” Oliver yelled. Three heads turned in his direction and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Er – Narcissa, I mean. You’re on a team, remember? Pass the Quaffle!”

Narcissa opened her mouth as if she wanted to argue, but seemed to decide against it at the last second and threw the Quaffle to Ginny. Ginny, who was still in the middle of ranting quietly to Hermione, reacted a little too late and the ball slipped out of her grasp, and was caught by Harry instead.

“Chasers, you’re back down to ten points!” Oliver announced. “Weasley, a little more focus, please?”

“Sorry,” Harry said, without even attempting to mask his amused grin as he held the Quaffle out to Ginny.

Hermione retreated back to the middle of the pitch, allowing Ginny room to make a move. She could try to score, but with both Harry and Bellatrix to her right, it would make for a difficult path to the goals. Hermione had Andromeda closing in on her, but with no Bludgers nearby there wasn’t much she could do to stop the Chaser. Narcissa was the only player who was completely free. Ginny threw the Quaffle to Hermione.

Hermione caught it easily and looked around. She could pass to Narcissa, who would definitely score… She thought about what Harry had said and looked at Ron, whose face had gone from white to green in the last few minutes. She sped past Narcissa, feeling a pair of eyes burning a hole into the back of her head, and threw the ball so gently that she practically passed it to Ron. She heard Narcissa’s scoff behind her, but she didn’t care. Ron stared at the ball in his hands in amazement and seemed to perk up a small bit.

He kicked the ball back out onto the pitch and Hermione raced towards it. She reached out, but just as her fingertips grazed the ball, she saw a Bludger hurtling towards her and had to pull back on her broom to avoid getting hit.

“Chasers, that’s another ten points off your score,” Oliver said, sounding defeated.

Hermione looked below her to confirm that Harry had swooped in and grabbed the Quaffle again, bringing their score back to zero. Bellatrix flew past her and smirked, letting Hermione know that it had been her who sent the Bludger after her this time. Hermione sighed and raised her hand, signalling for Harry to pass the Quaffle to her.

Narcissa rolled her eyes and snatched the Quaffle out of Harry’s hands before he had the chance to throw it back to Hermione. Despite Oliver’s previous warning, she continued to ignore her teammates. Ginny flew back to Hermione, dodging another Bludger from Bellatrix on the way, looking angrier than ever.

“Is it just me or are the Beaters only targeting the two Chasers who don’t have the Quaffle?” she huffed. “Doesn’t that sort of defeat the purpose?”

“Were you expecting anything different?” Hermione asked dryly.

“Weasley! Granger!”

Oliver’s tone made it clear he was reaching the end of his patience, so the pair split up. Hermione watched Narcissa score goal after goal without so much as glancing at her or Ginny. Harry succeeded in intercepting a few of Narcissa’s shots and passed the Quaffle back to either Ginny or Hermione, though somehow they both fumbled the ball almost every time. Hermione could’ve sworn she was cursed.

If she wasn’t losing her grip on the Quaffle when Harry threw it to her, then she was dropping it while trying to dodge a Bludger. A few times, when she was sure Oliver wasn’t watching, Narcissa simply stole the ball right out of her hands. Hermione continued to intentionally miss goals for Ron’s sake, despite the stone-cold glare she received every time.

The worst of it came when Ginny had dropped the Quaffle and Hermione dived for it, speeding head first towards the ground, but she was determined not to make a fool of herself again. Except, when she did catch the ball and pulled back on her broom to brake, she failed to notice the Bludger that Bellatrix had sent hurtling towards her until it struck her in the centre of her chest and knocked her backwards off her broom.

“Hermione!”

Ginny’s voice was the last thing she heard before she found herself lying on her back with seven bodies forming a circle around her, most of them staring down with concerned looks on their faces. She tried to sit up but the burning in her chest forced her back down and had her gasping for breath.

“Alright, take it easy,” Oliver said, kneeling down beside her. “Just stay where you are for a minute. Where does it hurt?”

“My ribs,” Hermione gasped, “But… Doesn’t feel broken… Just need to… Catch my breath.”

“Yeah, a fall like that will do that to you.”

Oliver wrapped one arm around Hermione’s shoulders and helped her sit up. Hermione leaned on one hand while the other held her ribs, and took a few deep breaths to steady herself. Nobody spoke while she recovered, but the tension was heavy in the air.

“Well, since nobody else is going to say it,” Narcissa said, finally breaking the silence, “This clearly isn’t going to work.”

“It’s only the first session,” Andromeda pointed out. “Most of us are used to playing against each other, that’ll be a difficult habit to break. Sure, we were a little shaky, but we’ll get better.”

“A little shaky?” Narcissa repeated. “That’s an understatement. I mean, Boy Weasley can’t stop the Quaffle to save his life without Granger practically passing it to him.”

Ron’s head dropped and he sighed dejectedly, unable to argue with the Chaser. Harry opened his mouth to defend his best friend, but Narcissa wasn’t finished.

“Girl Weasley keeps fumbling the simplest of passes that even a child could handle–”

“Hey!” Ginny made a move to step towards Narcissa, but Harry grabbed her elbow to keep her in place.

“–And, for Merlin’s sake, Granger was all over the place! She was distracted every five minutes; she’s clearly more interested in making Weasley look good in goals than trying to win; and she’s totally unaware of her surroundings! I mean, any decent Quidditch player would’ve been able to dodge that Bludger if they were paying attention.”

“Oh, you’re calling me unaware of my surroundings? That’s rich, coming from someone who clearly doesn’t understand that she’s not the only person on this team!” Hermione coughed out as she pushed herself to her feet, still clutching her ribs.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Narcissa asked. Hermione could almost feel her body turning to stone when Narcissa looked at her.

“It means that your ego is far too big to see that you don’t have to do everything by yourself!” Hermione stumbled forward, wincing at the sharp pain in her chest that came with each step. “You didn’t let the Quaffle out of your hands once, unless you were trying to score. You could at least pass once in a while.”

Oliver held out his hands in a feeble attempt to calm the two Chasers down. “Guys–”

“Why should I, when you and Weasley can’t seem to keep your heads in the game? If you’re not going to help me win, then what’s the point?” Narcissa scoffed, ignoring Oliver and taking another step towards Hermione, until there were only a few inches between them.

“You’re just proving my point!” Hermione said, jamming her finger against Narcissa’s chest. “We’re not just here to help you win, you know that right?”

Narcissa slapped Hermione’s hand away. “Well, the last time I checked, I was the only one here who actually made the team in the first place, so–”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Oliver snapped, finally putting himself in between Hermione and Narcissa. “Narcissa, take a walk and cool off. Meet us back here when you can stay civil.”

Narcissa stormed off without putting up a fight and Bellatrix followed close behind her. Andromeda looked torn, glancing between Hermione and her sisters. She mouthed an apology to the rest of the team before chasing after Narcissa, shaking her head as she went.

“We should take a look at those ribs,” Oliver said, gesturing to the arm folded across Hermione’s chest. “You also hit your back pretty hard on the fall.”

“I’m fine, just bruised.” Hermione straightened herself up with a low groan and exhaled slowly. “I only fell a few feet. I’ll survive.”

“I wasn’t asking. Ginny, take Hermione to the changing rooms and make sure nothing’s broken, will you?”

“Come on, Oliver,” Hermione sighed. “It doesn’t hurt that badly anymore. Honestly, I’m fine.”

Oliver still didn’t look entirely convinced, but he let it slide. “If you’re absolutely sure… You know there’s no shame in getting hurt, it happens often enough in this sport.”

“Oh, I know.” She had spent countless nights nursing the various bumps and bruises she’d received during matches, and occasionally a few particularly rough training sessions. “I promise, I’d never ignore anything serious.”

Oliver gathered the team into a circle once the Black sisters returned from their lap around the pitch. Hermione didn’t think Narcissa looked any less angry than she did before, but at least she wasn’t starting any more shouting matches. She figured that was probably as good as it would get with the older woman.

“Look, I know today didn’t go as well as we hoped it might,” he said, earning a quiet scoff from more than half of the players in front of him. “It’s only the first session, though. It was bound to be a little messy, bringing together players who are used to being on opposing teams. I’m confident that we can turn things around if we just give it a little time, so I don’t want any of you leaving here feeling dispirited, okay?”

“That’s optimistic of you, Wood,” Bellatrix said. “Narcissa’s right, we were a disaster out there. How much time do you really think it’ll take to sort that out? You said it yourself, we only have a week to decide if we should go ahead with this idea.”

“Even if we make it through this week, the first match is only three weeks away,” Narcissa added. “Every other team was put together four years ago. That’s four years they’ve spent training together day and night, learning what their teammates are going to do without even having to look at them. There’s no way we’ll be able to get to that stage so quickly. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m certainly not interested in wasting any more time on a losing battle.”

“Just give it a chance,” Oliver pleaded. “If we can’t make this work, then England will have to forfeit.”

“Then I suppose we’re going to have to forfeit.” Narcissa began to turn away from the group. “Or you can replace me, if you so wish, but I honestly couldn’t care either way.”

Hermione could have easily stood by and watched her walk away, and just hoped that Oliver would be able to find a replacement for Narcissa soon enough to make the deadline. It would’ve given her the chance she’d been dreaming of for years; to play in the World Cup and with the added bonus that she wouldn’t have to deal with the woman she hated most at the same time.

She wasn’t entirely sure what came over her when she called out after Narcissa, stopping her in her tracks. “So you’re just going to give up then? Nobody told me the Narcissa Black was a quitter!”

Hermione could feel multiple pairs of eyes on her, staring at her like she had gone mad. They were probably right. Maybe she just wanted to get under Narcissa’s skin one last time. It was the only reasonable explanation she could come up with for her outburst.

Narcissa almost didn’t turn around, but she couldn’t let Hermione get the last word. “It’s not giving up when we’re clearly a lost cause. I’d simply rather not embarrass myself in front of the entire nation, but if you’re okay with that, by all means go ahead.”

“You can’t know that we’re a lost cause after one session,” Hermione said. “I mean, in your own words, you were the only one who made the team in the first place. How embarrassed will you be in a few months when you’re watching us win, knowing that it should’ve been you?”

Narcissa scoffed, shaking her head. “As if you’ll even get close to winning without me.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to, won’t we?” Hermione shrugged. “Since you’re just going to leave the minute it gets a little bit difficult.”

Narcissa’s brow furrowed as she mulled over Hermione’s words. “I am not a quitter,” she said, retracing her steps until she was face-to-face with the younger Chaser, and looked her up and down. “You certainly don’t get to suggest that I am.”

“Here we go again,” Andromeda muttered, burying her head in her hands.

Narcissa took a deep breath and looked over Hermione’s shoulder at Oliver, who seemed to be regretting his decision of bringing this team together. “Fine,” she said quietly. “One week.”

Oliver closed his eyes, looking relieved. “Okay, let’s leave it here for today, We’ll meet again tomorrow evening, I’ll send each of you an owl with the time. For now, go home and get some rest.”

The Blacks all Disapparated together as soon as Oliver dismissed them. Harry and Ron made their way back towards the men’s changing rooms, while Ginny and Hermione headed for the women’s. When she was sure Oliver was out of earshot, Ginny turned to Hermione with a sly grin.

“We’re not going home to rest. We’re going for a drink.”

“Thank Merlin,” Hermione groaned, stretching out her aching limbs. “I definitely need one – or several – after that session.”

She didn’t think she’d ever been so happy to change out of her Quidditch robes before. Most of the time, she would be begging Ginny to stay out on the pitch with her after their training sessions ended, but this one had drained her more than any drills Gwenog could’ve thrown at her. She was desperate to leave the day in the past and forget about it all.

“Several sounds pretty good to me,” Ginny chuckled. “Meet you at The Three Broomsticks at seven?”

Hermione finished stuffing her robes into her bag and grabbed her Firebolt. “Yeah, I’ll see you there.”

She took one last look at the pitch where she’d be spending all of her time for the next week, and possibly longer, before Apparating back to her apartment to get ready.

Chapter 3

“–And then she has the nerve to say that we were the problem! Can you believe that?”

Hermione paused to take a long drink of her Butterbeer, only to realise just how long she’d been talking without taking a break. She smiled sheepishly at Ginny, who had spent the last twenty minutes patiently nodding along while Hermione recounted the training session they’d just finished.

“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to get so worked up about it.”

“Oh no, please continue. I’m still pissed about her saying a child would’ve been better than me,” Ginny scoffed. She looked back at Hermione and tilted her head. “I have to ask, though. If you hate Black so much, why did you convince her to stay on the team? I thought you wanted her gone.”

“I thought I did, too,” Hermione muttered. She’d been playing that moment back in her mind all evening, trying to come up with a logical explanation for it. “Honestly, I have no idea. I sort of wish I’d just kept my mouth shut. Although, maybe it’s for the best. I doubt Oliver would’ve been able to find a good enough replacement within a week.”

Ginny shook her head in disbelief, staring at Hermione like she’d grown a second head. “Hermione, do you realise you just complimented Narcissa Black? As in, the woman you’ve hated since you were twelve. Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“No, I didn’t,” Hermione protested weakly. “I just meant… Nobody else would be crazy enough to agree to something like this.”

“That’s not what you said, though.”

“Okay, look, even I’m not so blinded by my hatred for her that I can’t see she’s a brilliant player,” Hermione said reluctantly. Her expression was pained as she forced the words out. “Anyone following the Quidditch League knows that. I envy the fans for not knowing how insufferable she truly is. Her and her bloody sister.”

“That, I can definitely agree with,” Ginny said, setting down her empty glass. “Those Bludgers were no joke. I’m shocked you’re the only one who got hit by one. Merlin, what have we gotten ourselves into?”

Hermione rubbed the spot on her chest where a dark, Bludger shaped bruise was already forming and winced as she remembered the impact. “I don’t know, but I really hope it’s worth all the trouble – and potential injuries – in the end.”

“Me too. You’d think Bellatrix would go a little easier on us, considering we’re all supposed to be teammates now. It was only the first session,” Ginny huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “She could at least give us a chance to settle in before trying to kill any of us!”

“Do you think our opponents will go easy on us because we’re new?”

Hermione’s blood ran cold at the sound of a familiar voice coming from behind her and she watched as Ginny’s face turned bright red. She slowly turned around to face one of the women she had just spent almost half an hour insulting. Bellatrix was leaning on the back of the empty chair next to Hermione, not even looking at the two Chasers while she spoke.

“If anything that makes us more of a target,” Bellatrix continued after she had ordered from the bartender. “If we somehow manage to make it past this week without Oliver disbanding the team, then whoever we play against first will do whatever it takes to knock us out because they’ll see us as an easy win. If we can’t pull ourselves together and stop acting like we did today, we’re just going to make their job a lot simpler. So, if you can’t handle a couple of bruised ribs–”

“I never said I couldn’t handle it,” Hermione interrupted hotly. “Yeah, you’re probably right about the other teams having it out for us. I just never realised that would also apply to teammates.”

Bellatrix finally turned to face her teammates and narrowed her eyes at Hermione. “Have you considered the idea that maybe I’m just trying to make sure you’ll be ready when it comes to the real thing? Both of you already know how good I am on the pitch. If you can learn to dodge my Bludgers, then you should have no problem against anyone else.”

“I guess arrogance runs in the family,” Ginny whispered to Hermione, softly enough so Bellatrix wouldn’t hear.

Hermione almost laughed at Bellatrix’s suggestion. “You really expect me to believe that you’re trying to help me? Forgive me if I’m a little sceptical about that.”

“You can believe whatever you want to, it makes no difference to me either way,” Bellatrix responded with a shrug. “But what reason would I have to sabotage you? Like Weasley said, we’re supposed to be teammates now, right?”

“I could probably think of a few reasons,” Hermione mumbled. “Remember Hogwarts?”

Bellatrix opened her mouth to respond, but closed it when she saw the bartender approaching. She pushed herself off the chair she was using as an armrest and dug around in her pocket, pulling out a handful of coins. The bartender slid a glass of Firewhisky across the counter to Bellatrix.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Bellatrix said. She handed her coins over to the bartender and told him, “That should be enough to cover whatever they’re having next.”

Bellatrix hummed as she tasted the Firewhisky. Hermione looked back at Ginny, her brows furrowed in a silent question: did that just happen? Ginny responded with a shrug. Bellatrix noticed the interaction and seemed to understand what they were thinking.

“Consider it a peace offering,” she said, turning away from the bar. “Oh and, don’t worry, we’ll be sitting in the back, so we won’t hear any more of your conversation.”

It took Hermione’s brain a minute to catch up, but by the time she found her voice and called out to thank Bellatrix, the older witch was already halfway across the room. She turned back to find two fresh Butterbeers already waiting on the counter, and Ginny eyeing her glass suspiciously.

“That was… nice of her,” Ginny said slowly, picking up the glass and turning it around a few times. “Are we sure that wasn’t actually Andromeda?”

“It is pretty dark in here,” Hermione said, nodding in agreement, “It would be an easy mistake to make. I mean, they’re practically identical, even in broad daylight.”

“It’s the only reasonable explanation. Bellatrix would never buy us a drink, unless it was poisoned.” Ginny’s accusing gaze turned to the bartender, who had moved on to serve another customer. “It had to be Andromeda.”

“Except Andromeda just walked in, so it couldn’t have been her.” Hermione gestured to the door behind Ginny, where Bellatrix’s younger sisters were standing.

Ginny stared at Andromeda intently, like she was trying to search for proof that they had indeed gotten the two sisters mixed up. Andromeda turned then, noticing the two women at the bar, and waved. Hermione thought she might come over to talk, but Narcissa grabbed her arm before she could make her move and steered her towards the back of the room.

“Is there a fourth Black sister that we don’t know about?” Ginny asked.

“Not that I know of, thank the gods,” Hermione chuckled and took a hesitant sip from her glass, knowing Ginny wouldn’t take the risk. “Anyway, as much as she might want to, I don’t think Bellatrix would be bold enough to poison us in such a public place.”

“So, if we’re alone in the changing rooms someday and she offers me a drink of water…”

“Don’t drink it,” Hermione finished Ginny’s sentence with a small nod. “Well, I haven’t dropped dead yet, so I think we’re safe.”

“For now,” Ginny whispered before she reluctantly followed suit and drank the Butterbeer.

Hermione wanted to pick up her rant where she’d left off, but she couldn’t find it in herself after Bellatrix’s gesture. Her anger from earlier in the day had finally worn off. She let herself sneak a glance towards the back of the room, and felt her cheeks burn when she was immediately met by a pair of blue eyes looking back at her. Narcissa held her gaze a second longer before she turned her focus back to her sisters.

“What are we going to do?” Hermione groaned. “We need to prove to her that we’re actually good enough to be on the same pitch as her. Oliver chose us for a reason. We just have to make her see that.”

Ginny let out a slow breath. “Well, lucky for us, we only have six more days of trying to prove ourselves. After that, we’ll either be the best last-minute Quidditch team there’s ever been, or we can just forget it ever happened.” She sounded about as optimistic as a Seer telling someone they were going to die in a week.

“If it’s anything like today, those six days will be more like six years,” Hermione said, finishing off the last of her Butterbeer. “Let’s go back to my apartment. I’ve got a stash of Firewhisky there and there won’t be any Black sisters in the vicinity.”

“You had me at no Black sisters,” Ginny said, already standing up. “Though, the Firewhisky is a bonus.”

Hermione put on her coat, risking one last look across the room at her new teammates before she followed Ginny out of The Three Broomsticks.

---

Hermione moaned and rubbed her temples as Oliver’s whistle sounded out across the pitch, causing the throbbing in her head to worsen. After she and Ginny had gone to her apartment the night before, they’d both had one too many drinks and woken up with the worst hangover Hermione could remember. She had taken a potion to ease the pain before she left for training, but it had yet to kick in.

She finished her warm up and followed her teammates to the middle of the pitch, lagging behind with Ginny, who looked to be in a similar state. The seven players formed a semicircle around Oliver, who was once again standing next to the wooden box that contained the four balls needed for the game. He looked at each of the players in front of him until his eyes landed on Hermione and Ginny and squinted as he took in their appearances.

“I thought I told you all to go home and get some rest last night,” Oliver said. “Why do you two look like you spent the night at the pub.”

“Us? No way,” Hermione denied. “We did exactly what you said. We both went straight home and got a good night’s sleep, right Gin?”

Ginny nodded a little too eagerly and winced, but thankfully, Oliver decided not to push the matter. Hermione saw Andromeda covering a grin with her hand, knowing exactly where the Chasers had been the night before. It seemed that Harry and Ron were the only ones who did take Oliver’s advice.

“Alright, well, since you’re all clearly so well-rested, you won’t mind what I have planned for today.”

Oliver bent down to unlock the box by his feet and flipped the lid over. He waved his wand then, summoning two Beaters’ bats from the equipment room, which landed next to the box. The bats were followed by three strips of fabric that looked suspiciously like blindfolds. Andromeda and Bellatrix shared a questioning look, each of them holding their own bats in their hands.

“I think we can all agree that we didn’t get off to a great start yesterday,” Oliver said, ignoring the confused faces of his players. “Although some of you are friends, it’s clear to me that there’s some tension on the pitch. Now, I don’t know if that’s only from being used to playing as opponents or not, but either way, it needs to be left outside the stadium. So, I figured, what better way to clear the air between everyone than trust exercises!”

Oliver paused, waiting for a reaction from the players. Hermione looked at the extra bats and the two Bludgers struggling to free themselves from their restraints, and gulped. Everyone seemed to be doing the same thing. At least if there was one thing they could all agree on, it was that Oliver’s plan couldn’t possibly end well.

“Oh, Merlin,” Ginny whispered. “Somebody’s going to die today.”

Narcissa’s head snapped in her direction with a cold glare and Ginny’s own choice of words dawned on her a moment too late. Her face paled and she opened her mouth to apologise, but Oliver cut her off before she had the chance.

“I’m going to split you up into pairs,” he said quickly, trying to draw attention away from the unfortunate comment. “One of you will have to defend the other from being hit by Bludgers. Try not to dodge them yourselves, this is about having faith that your partner will have your back.”

“While… blindfolded?” Hermione asked, hoping she was mistaken about the strips of fabric.

“Yes,” Oliver confirmed. “The person without the bat will be blindfolded.”

Once again, nobody said anything. Hermione wished she had a time turner so she could go back to the moment she said ‘yes’ to Oliver and punch herself instead. If this was about building trust between the team, Hermione could already guess who Oliver would pair her up with.

“Is that safe?” Andromeda finally spoke up, asking the question every one of them wanted to ask.

“It’s not a commonly used method, but I think it will be good for you,” Oliver said, completely dodging the question. “Since we have an odd number, one person will be controlling the Bludgers. Everybody is going to be in the air at the same time, so you’ll have to be on guard.”

Oliver picked up the two bats from the ground, handing one to Harry, and the other to Narcissa. “So, these will be your partners – Bellatrix and Ron; Andromeda and Ginny; and Narcissa and Hermione. Harry, you’ll be controlling the Bludgers for now.”

Oliver then picked up the blindfolds and handed them to Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. Ginny had gotten off lightly by comparison, having Andromeda as her partner. Hermione was admittedly a little jealous. At least Ginny didn’t have too much to worry about. Ron, however, was holding his blindfold in shaky hands.

“She’s going to kill me,” Ron whimpered. He looked at his friends, as if begging one of them to trade places with him.

“No, she won’t,” Ginny said, patting her brother on the back. “You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” Ron argued quietly. “You’ve got the nice sister.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Bellatrix could’ve killed me and Hermione last night, but she didn’t.”

“Wait, what?” Ron asked, but Ginny shook her head.

“Never mind. Have fun!” Ginny ran off to join Andromeda. They seemed to hit it off instantly, smiling and laughing together within a few minutes.

Hermione gave Ron a sympathetic smile before going to face Narcissa. Neither of them said a word as they stood next to each other, waiting for further instruction from Oliver. Narcissa twirled the bat in her hands, while Hermione fiddled with the blindfold, her mind racing with all the possible outcomes of the exercise. Most of them ended with somebody being sent to St Mungo’s.

“Okay, let’s begin,” Oliver said, unstrapping the Bludgers from the box. “Everyone, on your brooms. Maybe don’t go too high though, just in case.”

Hermione’s stomach was doing flips as she swung a leg over her broomstick, though she didn’t think it was from her hangover this time. At least her potion had finally started to work and her headache was starting to ease – for now. She and Narcissa both lifted into the air, hovering only a couple of feet off the ground.

Hermione wrapped the blindfold around her eyes and gripped her broomstick tighter than normal, feeling like she might lose her balance without her vision. She took a few slow breaths to steady herself and waited. She couldn’t even be sure if Narcissa was still with her, or if she’d flown away to leave Hermione fend for herself.

Hermione heard a familiar whistling noise behind her and felt her entire body tense up. Being unable to see confused her enough that she couldn’t be sure which direction the Bludger was coming from. The best she could do was duck as close to her broom as she could and hope that Narcissa would do her job. The whistling suddenly grew louder on Hermione’s left side, and since she still couldn’t figure out where Narcissa was, the best she could do was pull back on her broom to take her backwards, out of the way. A moment later, she heard the ‘crack’ of the Bludger meeting a wooden bat.

“Good job, Narcissa!” Oliver called out.

“Did you think I would just let that hit you?”

Hermione jumped at the sound of Narcissa’s voice, closer than she expected. “Er– No,” Hermione stammered.

“Then why did you move?” Narcissa asked.

Before Hermione could answer, another Bludger came hurtling towards the pair. Hermione tried to move again, but this time, she felt a hand pushing her back in the direction she came from. Thinking she was being moved back into the Bludger’s path, she shoved Narcissa’s hand off her shoulder and ducked again.

Narcissa hit the ball away once more, and the noise in front of her made her realise she had misjudged where the Bludger was and put herself in its path. Narcissa had saved her again by pushing her away, not towards it.

“Will you stop moving,” Narcissa hissed. “You’re making this harder.”

“It’s instinct,” Hermione said defensively. “You hear a Bludger coming your way, you dodge it. Especially when the nearest person with a bat isn’t actually a Beater.”

“Are you doubting my skill?” Narcissa asked.

“Your skill in a position you don’t play? Yeah, a little.”

Hermione flinched as she heard Narcissa’s bat collide with two Bludgers, one after the other, right next to her head. She hadn’t even heard them coming. Hermione sighed and ran her fingers along the edge of the blindfold, growing desperate to take it off. She hated being so unaware of her surroundings.

“Still doubting me, Granger?”

Hermione didn’t answer. She couldn’t admit it out loud, but she was a little impressed. Her only concern was whether she’d be able to keep up when it was her turn to play defence. Then she figured, if Narcissa could do it so easily, how hard could it be?

“I’ll take that as a no,” Narcissa said. Hermione could practically hear the arrogance in her voice and rolled her eyes, glad that Narcissa couldn’t see her do it.

Oliver’s whistle blew, signaling that it was time for them to swap. Hermione ripped the blindfold off, gladly swapping it for Narcissa’s bat. She swung it back and forth a few times, trying to get used to the feeling of it in her hand.

“You better not miss,” Narcissa muttered while she tied the blindfold.

“Who’s doubting who now, Black?” Hermione taunted.

“At least I’ve had some training as a Beater,” Narcissa said, dropping her hands back to her broomstick. “Have you?”

Hermione paused. She didn’t know that about Narcissa. She turned the bat over in her hands, worry starting to creep into her mind. Maybe it wouldn’t be as easy as Narcissa had made it look.

“I’ll take your silence as another no,” Narcissa scoffed. “If I come out of this with so much as a scratch, Granger–“

“You won’t,” Hermione interrupted, hoping the fake confidence she forced into her voice would become real.

“If you say so.”

Harry sent a Bludger flying towards Narcissa, who’s head immediately turned in the direction of the noise, not even slightly as disoriented as Hermione had been. It was like she wasn’t even wearing the blindfold. Hermione suppressed her annoyance and sped forward, managing to hit the Bludger before it reached Narcissa.

“See?” Hermione said, turning back to Narcissa with a smug smile.

“No, I don’t,” Narcissa responded dryly.

Hermione had forgotten about the blindfold. “Oh, right.”

Hermione looked around the pitch, searching for any more Bludgers. Ginny knocked one away from Andromeda, who seemed completely at ease with the younger witch defending her. Ron looked terrified, holding the bat out in front of him like a sword. Hermione figured he was more scared of getting on Bellatrix’s bad side than he was of the Bludgers.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying us not talking,” Narcissa said, slowly drifting closer to Hermione, “But I’m not hearing any Bludgers getting hit either.”

“That’s because there’s none coming near us,” Hermione said, glancing over her shoulder at the other Chaser. She noticed Narcissa’s furrowed brow and remembered her own fear that Narcissa had left her alone. “I’m still here, if that’s what you’re really asking.”

“I wasn’t,” Narcissa denied. “I just don’t particularly fancy getting knocked out today.”

“You won’t,” Hermione promised, finally getting used to the feeling of the bat in her hand. Narcissa hummed, not sounding entirely convinced.

Hermione knocked another few Bludgers away, finding it easier each time, until Oliver blew his whistle again. Narcissa pulled off her blindfold and looked at Hermione for a moment like she wanted to say something. Eventually she decided against it and turned her attention back to Oliver as he called out their new pairs. Hermione flew over to Andromeda next, while Ginny moved on to Narcissa, and Harry swapped places with Ron.

“Hey,” Andromeda greeted her with a smile. “I hope Narcissa wasn’t too hard on you.”

“Surprisingly, no,” Hermione admitted. “It wasn’t that bad. Maybe Oliver’s idea could actually work.”

“Wow. Could this really be the end of the Great Black-Granger rivalry?” Andromeda asked, her eyebrows raised. “It only took ten years.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Hermione said. “The week’s not over yet.”

Andromeda chuckled softly. “I knew it was too much to hope for.”

Hermione swapped the bat in her hand for Andromeda’s blindfold and tied the fabric around her head again. She was a little more at ease this time, knowing it was Andromeda by her side rather than Narcissa, but she still wasn’t fond of being without her vision.

Now that she wasn’t so worried about her partner leaving her, Hermione was able to let herself focus more on using her remaining senses to figure out what was going on around her. As the exercise continued, she began to find it easier to pinpoint the Bludgers’ locations by the sound they made, and she could follow Andromeda’s position by feeling the wind generated by her broom.

“I’m starting to think there was more to Oliver’s plan than only trust-building,” Hermione said after a while.

“What do you mean?” Andromeda asked, pulling up next to Hermione while the Bludgers attacked the rest of their teammates, giving them a moment of rest.

“I guess I never realised how much I only rely on my sight while playing,” Hermione explained. “I always have my head on a swivel during matches, looking for Bludgers and other players. I feel like now, I’ll be able to listen more to what’s happening around me instead of actually looking. It reminds me of what Narcissa said yesterday about the other players knowing what their teammates are doing without looking at them.”

Andromeda hummed thoughtfully. “I think you might be right. It’s like killing two birds with one stone; we learn to trust each other more and we develop a new skill in the process. He’s a smart guy.”

Oliver had them swap positions one last time. Hermione hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed since they started the exercise, but their session was almost over. To her surprise, they’d managed to make it through without any disasters occurring.

“I can’t get used to holding this while flying,” Hermione commented. “I know it shouldn’t be that different to holding the Quaffle, but it just feels like I have an extra limb.”

“I feel weird not having one,” Andromeda replied. “I think of it as an extension of my arm, rather than an extra one. It’s like a part of me.”

Hermione stretched her arm out, trying to imagine it like Andromeda did. She shook her head, still feeling like it was an added weight.

“It takes some time to get used to,” Andromeda chuckled. “I’m sure you could pick it up in no time, if you wanted to.”

“I think I’ll stick to Chaser,” Hermione said. “But it could be a useful skill someday. Maybe I should practise a little more.”

“I could help you, if–”

Andromeda’s sentence was cut short by a nasty ‘crack’ that made Hermione’s stomach turn. While she was so focused on getting a feel for the bat, she’d forgotten the whole reason she was holding it. She spun around just in time to see Andromeda slipping off her broom as her eyes rolled back into her head. Hermione dropped the bat and sped towards the woman, grabbing her by the arm in an attempt to slow her descent.

Hermione heard her teammates gathering behind her while she laid Andromeda on the ground, kneeling next to her, unsure of what to do. Blood gushed out of a cut on the woman’s forehead, making Hermione’s heart race. It was her fault the older woman got injured. All because she’d let her guard down and gotten distracted – exactly what Narcissa had accused her of the day before.

“Hermione, why don’t you step back and let me take a look,” Oliver said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Hermione nodded and stumbled back a couple of steps. She covered her mouth with a shaky hand and watched Oliver check over Andromeda. A second later, she felt another hand on her, shoving her back roughly.

“What the fuck did you do?” Narcissa shouted, inches away from Hermione’s face. Hermione flinched and tried to step back, but Narcissa grabbed her by the collar of her robes, keeping her in place.

“I– I didn’t mean–”

“Hey, it was clearly an accident!” Ginny argued. “Leave her alone.”

“An accident,” Narcissa scoffed. “Right. She wasn’t even paying attention, like usual. Now my sister’s hurt and it’s because of her.”

“I– I’m sorry,” Hermione stuttered. “I would never want Andromeda to get hurt.”

“Really? Well, it’s a little late for that.”

Oliver stood up and blew his whistle, drawing their attention back to him. “Everyone stop! Accidents happen, alright? Placing blame isn’t going to do anyone any good right now. We should get Andromeda to St Mungo’s, just to be safe. Narcissa, come here and help me.”

Narcissa hesitated, shooting daggers at Hermione for another moment before releasing her with one last push. She crouched down at Andromeda’s other side, wrapping one of her sister’s arms around her shoulders and helping Oliver lift her up.

“Go ahead,” Bellatrix told them softly, “I’ll meet you there.”

Oliver nodded and looked at Narcissa, counting to three before the three of them Disapparated. Bellatrix followed suit immediately after, leaving the remaining players standing on the pitch in shock.

“Hermione, it’s not your fault,” Harry said, squeezing her shoulder.

“I have to go with them,” Hermione said, shrugging off Harry’s attempt to comfort her. “I need to make sure she’s okay.”

None of them made any move to argue with her. She pulled her wand out of her robes and closed her eyes, focusing on St Mungo’s until she felt her gut twisting. When she opened her eyes, she was standing outside the abandoned-looking department store on a Muggle street in London. She entered the building, finding herself in the waiting room of the hospital, where Oliver, Narcissa, and Bellatrix were waiting anxiously.

Narcissa scowled at Hermione and looked away, while Bellatrix also refused to make eye contact with the younger witch. Oliver gave her a tight-lipped smile and gestured to one of the empty chairs across from them. A moment later, Harry, Ron, and Ginny entered behind Hermione and sat down next to her.

Nobody said a word the entire time they were waiting. Hermione felt like hours had passed before a nurse came looking for them. All eight of them jumped to their feet, eager to hear the news.

“Your friend is awake,” the nurse told them with a smile. “You can come and see her now. Just not all at once. We have a limit of three visitors at a time.”

Narcissa and Bellatrix stood up immediately and followed the nurse down the hallway to Andromeda’s room. The rest of the team looked at Hermione, who had practically bitten her fingernails down to the quick in the time they’d been sitting there. She looked up, feeling the eyes on her, and shook her head.

“I can’t. I shouldn’t,” she stammered. “I’m the reason she’s here.”

“Hermione, stop beating yourself up,” Oliver said. “These things happen. Merlin knows Andromeda is the last person who would ever hold this against you.”

Hermione sighed, realising he was right. She slowly walked down the same hallway she’d seen Narcissa and Bellatrix go down, finding herself in a large room lined with beds that each had a curtain drawn around them. The same nurse as before was making her rounds with a clipboard in hand and she smiled at Hermione when she noticed her.

“You’re here for Ms. Black, right? She’s in the last bed on your right.” The nurse pointed the bed out to Hermione and continued on her way around the room.

Hermione followed her instructions and stood outside the closed curtain, taking a deep breath before she stepped through. Andromeda was sitting up in her bed with a bandage wrapped around her head, but she greeted Hermione with a warm smile nonetheless. Hermione just stood frozen at the foot of her bed, guilt rising in her chest.

“Hey,” Andromeda said gently, noticing the look on Hermione’s face. “I’m fine, Hermione. It’s just a concussion, nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” Narcissa repeated, clutching her sister’s hand between hers. “You could’ve been seriously injured. She’s lucky it’s only a concussion.”

“Cissa, would you please stop that?” Andromeda begged. “It wasn’t Hermione’s fault.”

Narcissa huffed, clearly wanting to argue further, but she refrained at Andromeda’s request.

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione choked out, finding her voice again. “She’s right, it was my fault. If I hadn’t been distracted–”

One look from Andromeda silenced Hermione mid-apology, leaving her staring at the floor, unsure of what else she could say. Neither of Andromeda’s sisters said anything, and they still wouldn’t look at Hermione.

“Well, uh, I should go,” Hermione said when the silence became unbearable. “The others will want to know you’re okay. I’m sorry, again.”

Andromeda opened her mouth to protest, but Hermione was already gone.

Chapter 4

The days following Andromeda’s accident were hell on earth for Hermione. Despite her feeling like Oliver’s exercise may have been starting to work at the time, the team came out the other side of it worse off than before. The divide between the players was deepening, with Narcissa still blaming Hermione for their sister getting hurt. Bellatrix, to Hermione’s surprise, wasn’t completely freezing Hermione out like Narcissa was, but that still didn’t make them friends.

While Andromeda was still in St Mungo’s recovering from her concussion, the other six players were struggling to get through just twenty minutes of a training session without someone starting an argument. On the third day without Andromeda, Oliver halted the session after a particularly bad fight broke out between Narcissa and Hermione.

It started the same way it always did. Narcissa had spent most of her time that morning ignoring Hermione and Ginny in favour of playing a one-woman Quidditch match; never passing the Quaffle unless Oliver specifically told her to. Eventually, Hermione grew so sick of aimlessly flying in circles around the pitch that the next time Oliver called them to the ground for a quick break, she just snapped.

“What in Merlin’s name is your problem, Black?” Hermione asked, dropping her broom by her feet and storming across the pitch to Narcissa. She could feel several pairs of eyes watching her, but she didn’t care about making a scene anymore. Even Oliver made no move to interrupt Hermione this time.

Narcissa, entirely unfazed by Hermione’s outburst, took a long drink from her bottle of water before replying with, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Like hell you don’t. I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve passed the Quaffle to either of us in the last five days!” Hermione said, throwing her arms up in frustration. “What are the rest of us even here for?“

“I’ve been asking myself that very same question,” Narcissa said under her breath.

“You do realise you can’t win the World Cup on your own, right?” Hermione asked. “Well, maybe if you could pull your head out of your arse for one minute, you’d realise that we’re your teammates!”

That was what sent Narcissa over the edge. Her expression darkened and she slammed her bottle back down on the bench with a bang.

“No, you’re not!” she replied harshly, looking down at Hermione like she was a speck of dirt on her most expensive shoes. “You’re not my teammate.”

“Well, the last I checked, Oliver put us both on this pitch together. So, what else would that make us? Like it or not, Black, we are a team now. At least, we’re supposed to be.”

“No, I had a team and they…” Narcissa swallowed thickly and shook her head. “Who are you to think you can just come in and take their places, as if you actually deserve to be here? Like you’ve put in the same work and dedication that they put in to get here? Because you haven’t. You’re only here because people died, or have you already forgotten that? They’re the ones who deserved to be on this pitch, not you.”

Hermione noticed the slight waver in Narcissa’s voice when she mentioned her teammates, but she didn’t call attention to it. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole when she realised just how insensitive she was being. Narcissa raised her eyebrows, waiting for Hermione to respond.

“That’s not… I didn’t mean…” Hermione shifted uncomfortably on her feet . “I’m sor–”

“Save it,” Narcissa cut in. There was a fire in her eyes that Hermione had never seen before. It scared her even more than the icy glares she was usually on the receiving end of.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Oliver shouted, motioning for the six players to gather around. He stood in the centre of the pitch, pinching the bridge of his nose as the team joined him. “Guys, we can’t keep going on like this. We’re hardly making any progress and I’ve only got two more days to decide if we’re going through with this. What do we have to do to make this work?”

“Maybe the question should be can we make this work?” Bellatrix asked. “You said it yourself, Oliver, it’s been five days and we’re clearly not getting anywhere. What difference is another two going to make?”

“Are you saying we should just call it off now?” Oliver asked.

“No,” Bellatrix said, though it sounded more like a question. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

For a moment, it looked like Oliver was considering it and, despite how painful the last few days had been, Hermione still felt a lump forming in her throat at the idea. She wasn’t ready to give up on her dream yet, even if it meant having to put up with Narcissa for a while longer. Oliver opened his mouth to reply, when another voice interrupted him.

“Merlin, you all look a bit worse for wear. What have I missed?”

Andromeda joined the group, smiling brightly as she threw her arm around Oliver’s shoulder. Hermione was glad to see that the cut on her forehead was mostly healed, leaving behind a thin, white scar in its place. Andromeda’s smile faded when she didn’t get a response to her question. The solemn looks being shared between the players around her told her all she needed to know.

“I take it no miracles have occurred while I’ve been out,” she said, clicking her tongue softly. “I thought you’d have gotten the hard part over with and we’d all be best friends by the time I came back.”

“Does that mean you’re coming back?” Oliver asked, his face brightening a little. Andromeda was probably the only person on the team who could help him in providing a voice of reason between the two groups in the midst of their battles.

“Yup. The Healers at St Mungo’s just signed off. Thanks to modern potion-making, I am officially concussion-free and ready to get back at it. See?” Andromeda said, giving Narcissa and Bellatrix a pointed look. “There was never anything to worry about.”

“You’re right,” Bellatrix spoke up, glancing in Hermione’s direction. “We may have overreacted a little. Didn’t we, Cissa?”

It wasn’t necessarily an apology, but it was more than Hermione expected from the eldest Black sister. It took Narcissa a sharp elbow from Bellatrix before she mumbled something that sounded like an agreement, though she was still scowling at Andromeda. Andromeda seemed satisfied nonetheless, knowing it was the best she was going to get.

“Anyway,” she said, turning back to Oliver, “What did I interrupt? Was it something to do with the article?”

“What article?” Oliver asked, confusion spreading over his face.

“Oh.” Andromeda’s brow furrowed and she straightened up, her arm dropping from Oliver’s shoulders. “Have none of you seen it?”

She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a copy of The Daily Prophet, unfolded it and showed it to Oliver. His face grew pale the minute he began to read the article in question.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. ‘England manager Wood replaces National Team days after tragedy’,” he said, quoting the headline. “That makes me sound heartless.”

“Who wrote that?” Hermione asked, taking the paper from Oliver. She found the author’s name beneath the headline and rolled her eyes. “Of course. I should’ve known.”

“Skeeter?” Ginny guessed. Hermione nodded in confirmation. A collective groan made its way around the group. Every one of them had been on the wrong end of Skeeter’s articles at some point or another.

“What’s she saying?” Ron asked.

Hermione cleared her throat and began to read the article out loud.

“The unfortunate incident that took place at the Quidditch World Cup Qualifiers two weeks ago has left the entire country in a state of shock and heartbreak. Everyone, it seems, except for seven players and their manager, pictured above. Mere days after the funerals were held for our fallen Quidditch stars, Oliver Wood, manager of England’s National Team, has been spotted with a new lineup of players – Bellatrix Black, Andromeda Black, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and even Narcissa Black; the only surviving member of the previous team.”

Hermione paused, letting her eyes flick past the top of the newspaper to where Narcissa was standing. The blonde witch had her arms crossed and she was tapping her foot quickly in her irritation. Hermione scanned ahead to the next few lines, but her voice faltered as she read them out loud.

“Despite the untimely loss of her teammates,” she said nervously, “Narcissa Black seems perfectly content to… Uh, to…”

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to continue reading after their earlier argument. She feared any idea of ‘don’t shoot the messenger’ would be forgotten in Narcissa’s rage. Though she had no proof to support her theory, she figured if anyone on that pitch would know how to cast the Unforgivable Curses and be happy to use all three of them against her at once, it would be Narcissa.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, to what?” Narcissa snapped, crossing the small distance between them.

She leaned over Hermione’s shoulder and snatched the paper out of her hands. Their fingers brushed for a second, sending an inexplicable jolt of electricity through the younger witch. Hermione inched away from Narcissa, telling herself what she felt was probably just from fear of the older witch. She watched Narcissa's face closely as she read the next lines of the article.

“Narcissa Black seems perfectly content to… leave her old teammates in the past in favour of getting another chance to be in the World Cup?” Narcissa thrust the newspaper back at Hermione. “The next time I see that woman, I swear to the gods, she’ll regret the day she decided to pick up a quill.”

“She’s completely out of line. Nobody actually thinks that,” Hermione said, surprising both herself and Narcissa. Narcissa looked at her curiously, but Hermione averted her gaze back to the newspaper in hand. “Uh, anyway. The rest of the article basically follows the same theme. Skeeter slates all of us for taking these positions, calling us attention-seeking, all sorts of things like that.”

Hermione folded the newspaper over and handed it back to Oliver, who was now sitting on his wooden box with his head down. He was massaging the back of his neck with one hand and holding the newspaper so tightly in the other that the pages started to crumple.

“Well, it looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” Ginny said. “So much for a quiet trial run.”

“Yeah, if things don’t work out now, the whole country will know about it,” Hermione said gravely. Her worst fear was starting to look more like a reality. Every witch and wizard in Great Britain was about to get a front row seat to the downfall of Hermione Granger.

“I’m sorry, everyone,” Oliver said without looking up. “This is on me. I got all of you into this.”

“No, it’s not,” Andromeda said, squeezing Oliver’s shoulder. “We were all given a choice and we all agreed to be here. No one blames you. Anyway, it only becomes an issue if it doesn’t work out.”

“Andy, before you arrived we were talking about whether we should just… give up,” Bellatrix informed her. “That’s what you interrupted earlier.”

“Oh.” Andromeda, for once, couldn’t come up with any words of encouragement for her teammates.

“We can’t,” Narcissa protested suddenly. “If we give up now, we’ll just be proving Skeeter right.”

“Exactly,” Hermione added. “It’ll look like we just got scared off by her article. I don’t know about the rest of you, but if I have to look at that woman’s smug face every time I see her I’ll go mad. It’s almost as bad as Black’s. No offence–“ She glanced at Narcissa as she spoke, then changed her mind. “Actually, yes offence.”

“Please,” Narcissa scoffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “I’m taking it as a compliment. That woman has nothing on me. Do you know how long it took for me to perfect that look?”

“Oh, of course it’s practised,” Hermione groaned. “I knew something that insufferable just couldn’t be natural.”

“Okay, aside from that last part, is anyone else a little scared that those two just agreed on something?” Ginny asked, pointing at both Chasers with genuine concern in her eyes.

“Yeah, that was definitely weird.” Andromeda lightly ran her thumb along the scar on her forehead. “Am I still concussed?”

“As shocking as it is, they have got a point,” Bellatrix said, pursing her lips. “Before now, none of us thought there’d be any real consequences if we were to crash and burn. I think, on some level, we haven’t really been trying as hard as we should to make this work. Sure, most of us have never been friends, and we argue… a lot. But it’s probably safe to say that we all started this with one foot out the door and that hasn’t helped.”

Hermione thought back to the moment she arrived at the first training session with Ginny and spotted the Black sisters. Bellatrix was right; Hermione had immediately decided they’d have no chance at becoming a functional team in such a short time. She wondered if things would’ve gone differently if she hadn’t written them off so quickly.

Oliver stood up to face his team and brought his hands together.

“Alright, well, there’s only one way to solve this. We’ll put it to a vote; cut our losses and give up now, or keep going and officially submit ourselves as a team to the International Confederation of Quidditch. But, if we keep going, it’s as a team. You work together and there’ll be no more arguments on the pitch, okay? I don’t care what you do outside of the stadium, but in here, those are the rules.” Oliver directed his comments to Narcissa and Hermione, who both nodded reluctantly.

“Okay then. Those who think we should call it quits?”

Hermione kept her eyes on Oliver, afraid to look at her teammates in case she saw all six hands in the air. Instead, she saw the corners of Oliver’s lips turning upwards into a slight smile. She took the risk and turned her head, but apparently nobody had voted for the first option. Her heart leapt in her chest and she couldn’t fight the grin breaking out on her face.

“So, we’re doing this?” Harry asked. “Officially?”

“Looks like it,” Oliver confirmed. “Which brings me on to the next orders of business. We need to get you guys proper uniforms, but first things first… Every team needs a captain.”

Oliver turned to Narcissa, holding his hands out in a questioning manner. He wore a hopeful expression, though it didn’t last long. Narcissa stared back at him in bewilderment, shaking her head almost immediately.

“Who, me?” she asked incredulously. “No way.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Oliver questioned. “This is your team. You should be the one to lead them.”

“No,” Narcissa repeated, looking uncomfortable. “Pick someone else.”

“Er–” Oliver seemed thrown by her blatant refusal. He had been so sure that Narcissa would accept that he didn’t even bother to consider a second option. He studied each player carefully, weighing up his options quietly for a few minutes.

“What about you, Andromeda?” Oliver suggested. Andromeda’s brow furrowed and she pointed to herself.

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” Oliver said with a shrug. “Think about it; you’re probably the only person here that everyone actually likes and you’ve sort of been the only one who’s stayed optimistic so far, despite everything. Plus, I need a neutral party working with me.”

“I don’t know…” Andromeda said, scratching her jaw lightly.

“Should we take another vote?” Oliver asked. “Anyone who disagrees, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Just like before, nobody raised their hands. A wave of relief washed over Hermione. Andromeda would be a fair captain; she had no doubt in her mind about that.

“The people have spoken,” Oliver said, gesturing to Andromeda’s teammates. “Will you accept… Captain?”

Andromeda still looked unsure, but the encouraging smiles from both of her sisters convinced her. She let out a breath and nodded, raising her hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay, I accept,” she chuckled. Her cheeks burned red as her teammates gave her a round of applause.

”Fantastic!” Oliver cheered. “Now then, back to those uniforms. Everyone, come with me.”

Oliver led the team into the changing rooms, instructing them all to take a seat along the benches while he wheeled a large blackboard to the front of the room. There were diagrams scribbled all over the board, depicting various Quidditch strategies, but they disappeared with a quick wave of Oliver’s wand.

“Call me overly optimistic, but I’ve sort of been working on a design already,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

With another flick of his wand, two pieces of white and red chalk got to work, bringing Oliver’s idea to life. The uniforms consisted of plain white trousers, and a white jersey with two red stripes; one running vertically from the left shoulder to the hem, and the other going horizontally across the chest. England’s crest sat where the two stripes met. Their robes were completely red on the outside, with a white stripe going down each of the sleeves, and white on the interior.

“Wow,” Andromeda breathed out. “They look great, Oliver.”

“Yeah, really nice,” Harry agreed.

“You really think so?” Oliver asked, gleaming with pride.

“They’re much better than the Holyhead Harpies’ uniforms,” Ginny commented. “Just don’t tell Gwenog I said that or she’ll have me running laps of the pitch until I die.”

Hermione looked over the designs, her eyes narrowing as she became lost in thought. She did agree with her friends; Oliver’s uniforms looked good, but she couldn’t help feeling like something was missing. She just couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

“Okay, great,” Oliver said happily. “I’ll get these designs over to Quality Quidditch Supplies this evening and we should have our uniforms by next week–”

“Actually, can I make a suggestion?” Hermione asked, feeling like a lightbulb had just gone off in her mind.

Oliver looked surprised, but he nodded and stepped aside, allowing Hermione to take his place in front of the blackboard. Hermione looked at the drawings for a moment and chewed her bottom lip, becoming unsure of herself. Then she noticed a photograph pinned to the wall just behind the blackboard. It was of the seven players from the old team, all laughing with their arms thrown around each other. Even Narcissa wore a bright smile in the pictures, which Hermione didn’t think she’d ever seen before. She shook herself out of her trance after a moment, and picked up a piece of black chalk. She drew a simple, thin band wrapping around one sleeve of the robes and took a small step back.

“It’s, uh…” Hermione turned back to face the group, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at Narcissa while she explained. “Sometimes in Muggle sports, if a player passes, the rest of the team will wear a black armband to signify their loss.”

“Black was right earlier,” Hermione continued when it seemed like nobody was going to object. Somehow, it was the second time in one day that she was agreeing with Narcissa. “I think a few of us have forgotten the reason we’re here in the first place. Myself included. When Oliver came to pitch the idea to Ginny and I, he told us he was looking for a way to honour his players’ memories and the work they put in to get to this point. That’s what this should be about, right?I guess I thought if we wore those, it would serve as a reminder of why we’re here in the first place. I don’t know, maybe it’s a silly idea.”

The room fell silent and Hermione feared she had overstepped, until Oliver finally spoke up. “I don’t think it’s silly, Hermione,” he said, sounding a little choked up. “It’s perfect.”

Hermione gave him a small smile in return, but it wasn’t only his thoughts she wanted to hear. Even as the rest of her teammates voiced their approval, she could only focus on the one person whose opinion she had never cared for in her life. Even though she hadn’t been able to look at Narcissa the whole time she was speaking, she couldn’t look away now, even as the woman continued to scrutinise the drawings. Hermione wasn’t even sure if Narcissa had been listening to her.

It felt like hours passed by while she waited for any reaction at all from Narcissa. She was just considering erasing her addition from the blackboard entirely, when blue eyes finally met hers. For the first time, probably ever, Hermione saw something other than complete and utter hatred behind Narcissa’s gaze. If she squinted, she could almost imagine it was something akin to respect.

“I know we’re not the teammates you wanted to be here with.” Hermione found herself speaking directly to Narcissa this time, forgetting all about the other people in the room. “We all know we can’t replace them. But we want to do this for them, if you’ll let us.”

The only response she received from Narcissa was a slight nod, so miniscule that Hermione likely would have missed it if she hadn’t been so hyper focused on the older witch. To anyone else in the room, it might not have looked like much, but Hermione knew better. From Narcissa, that nod was a huge step. Hermione felt like a weight was being lifted off her chest.

She even began to think that maybe things were starting to look up for the team at last.

Chapter 5

Hermione woke up and stretched out with a long groan. Since their meeting in the changing rooms and Oliver officially submitting the team for the World Cup, the intensity of their training sessions had increased tenfold, leaving Hermione with constantly aching limbs. The bright side, though, was that Narcissa was finally treating her and Ginny like they were on the same team, which meant the number of arguments within the team had dropped considerably.

Hermione closed her eyes again, relishing in the first proper day of rest she’d gotten since joining the team. She was just starting to drift off again when she felt the bed dip beside her, startling her awake again. She sighed softly and turned over to find Crookshanks staring at her expectantly. Hermione reached out and scratched between his ears, earning a low purr in response before he jumped off the bed, looking back to see if she was following him.

“Okay, okay,” she mumbled, throwing her duvet aside. “I’m coming.”

Hermione followed Crookshanks out to the kitchen, where he sat waiting next to his food bowl and meowed at her. She grabbed his food out of the cupboard and filled his bowl, which he dug into immediately, not even waiting until she’d finished before he stuck his head right under the falling nuggets of food.

Hermione made herself a bowl of cereal afterwards and sat at the table, eating alongside her cat while she read today’s copy of The Daily Prophet. Thankfully, Skeeter hadn’t written anything else about the team since her first article, but Hermione knew that was probably only because she hadn’t gotten a chance to interview any of the players with them spending all of their time inside the stadium. Instead, she had been forced to write a puff piece about a break-in at Gringotts, which turned out to have been a Niffler that managed to slip through without alerting the security systems.

Hermione flicked through the paper until she reached the sports section, where the first phase of matches for the World Cup had been posted. Her eyes scanned down through the list, eager to see who they would be up against first.

“England vs. Italy,” she read aloud. “That’s going to be tough.”

Crookshanks tilted his head at her before going right back to his food. Hermione hummed and laid the paper on the table, then stood up to clear her empty bowl. She got dressed then, deciding to use her free time to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies to get her measurements taken for her uniform as Oliver had asked each of them to do.

Arriving in Diagon Alley, Hermione realised for the first time just how many people actually read Skeeter’s article. She usually had fans of the Holyhead Harpies smiling and waving at her, but now all she received were nasty looks from almost everyone she passed by. She even heard a few people whispering about her under their breaths. Hermione quickened her pace and ducked into Quality Quidditch Supplies, breathing a sigh of relief when she was out of sight.

“Hello there! What can I do for you?”

Hermione turned around to face the shopkeeper, a woman in her late-thirties that Hermione recognised from her numerous trips to the shop during her career. She smiled at the woman and made her way to the counter.

“Hello, Emily,” she greeted.

“Ah, Hermione,” Emily replied happily, “I take it you’re here to get measured as well?”

“As well?” Hermione questioned.

“Yes, you just missed a few of your teammates, actually. Narcissa and Andromeda were here not too long ago,” Emily explained. “Come along, I’ll get you sorted.”

Hermione followed Emily into the back of the shop, pleased to hear she wouldn’t have to see Narcissa on the one day she could get a break from the older witch. She stood up on the platform while Emily got to work, wrapping her measuring tape around Hermione over and over, writing down her measurements as she worked.

“Have you read Skeeter’s article?” Emily asked after a while.

Hermione scoffed and nodded. “Who hasn’t read it?”

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s a load of crap. I’m sure I’m not the only one who would agree.”

“Really?” Hermione deadpanned. “Because I just came from Diagon Alley, where every single person was looking at me like I’d kicked their pet.”

Emily smiled sympathetically. “You’re not doing anything wrong. People will see that eventually. I’m sure this will all blow over, just as soon as you win your first match.”

“I think you mean if we win,” Hermione sighed.

“Oh, come on, you guys are some of the best players in England. There’s no way you’ll lose.”

“Thanks, Emily,” Hermione chuckled. She didn’t feel as confident in their ability as the shopkeeper apparently did, but it was still nice to hear.

Emily disappeared for a few minutes and came back with the uniform Oliver had designed, magically altered to fit the measurements she had taken. She handed over the uniform and stepped out so Hermione could try it on to make sure it fit.

Hermione stood in front of the mirror in her new uniform and almost didn’t recognise herself. It was strange not to see her usual green uniform. She toyed with the black band wrapped around her right arm, suddenly feeling like the whole thing was becoming more real than it was before.

“How is it?” Emily called from the other side of the curtain separating the two witches.

“It’s perfect,” Hermione replied.

Hermione changed back into her own clothes and met Emily again in the front of the shop. Emily handed her a bag for her new uniform and they bid each other farewell.

“Good luck with everything,” Emily said as Hermione pushed the door open. “Don’t forget me when you’re famous.”

“Of course not,” Hermione chuckled. “See you later, Emily.”

Hermione made it about ten steps out of the shop before she was bombarded once again by angry Quidditch fans. She thought she would be able to just slip through Diagon Alley unnoticed and return home, but her hopes of that happening were soon lost.

“Hey, look, isn’t that Hermione Granger?” a voice called, alerting a few people to her presence.

“Yeah, you’re right,” his friend answered. “Can you believe she would just take Dolohov’s spot like that? How insensitive!”

Hermione ducked her head and tried to turn in the other direction, but she ran straight into another woman from the crowd that was beginning to form around her.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” she spat. “How can you live with yourself, knowing they were supposed to be in your place?”

“I… I don’t…“ Hermione glanced around, searching for an exit. Then, she heard the last voice she wanted to hear at that moment.

“Ms. Granger! Care to say a few words to the readers of The Daily Prophet?”

Hermione came face to face with Rita Skeeter, her charmed quill hovering in the air with a piece of parchment, ready to take action. Hermione eyed the quill cautiously, knowing all about its tendency to twist people’s words.

“I have nothing to say to you, Skeeter,” Hermione said, glowering at the woman.

Skeeter ignored her statement entirely. “Tell us, Hermione, how did this new team come to form?”

“No comment,” Hermione replied, folding her arms across her chest. The quill started scribbling nonetheless. Hermione raised herself onto her toes, trying to catch a glimpse of the page, but it angled itself away from her.

“Okay, then what made you agree to join the team? Surely you had to know you’d be facing backlash over your choice?”

“I’m not answering any of your questions, Skeeter,” Hermione reaffirmed. “The people who matter know the answer to that question. Nobody else needs to.”

Skeeter still wasn’t put off by Hermione’s refusal. She narrowed her eyes at the young witch over the rim of her glasses, determined to get something she could use out of her.

“How does it feel, knowing you’re only in the World Cup because of somebody else’s hard work?”

“How does it feel, interviewing people only to change their words later on?” Hermione countered. “How can you call yourself a journalist if all you write is lies?”

“I only ever write the truth,” Skeeter insisted, looking offended by Hermione’s accusation. “Sometimes you just have to look past what people are saying to find it. Now, how has your rivalry with Narcissa Black affected your teamwork so far?”

There was a commotion in the crowd as three people pushed their way through to the front. Andromeda appeared at Hermione’s side a moment later, along with Narcissa and a man Hermione didn’t recognise. Hermione let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing now that she had backup, even if half of it did come in the form of Narcissa Black.

“Ah, perfect timing!” Skeeter looked like she had just hit the jackpot. She forgot all about Hermione as she turned her attention to Narcissa. “Ms. Black, I have been dying to get an interview with you. You’re quite difficult to catch, did you know that?”

“Only to people I don’t wish to speak with,” Narcissa replied, looking Skeeter up and down in clear disdain.

Skeeter let out a fake laugh for the sake of the crowd and slapped Narcissa’s shoulder lightly like they were old friends. “Oh, I know you’re very busy. If I could just have a moment of your time, I’d love to get an exclusive–”

“No,” Narcissa interjected.

“How have you been coping with the deaths of your teammates?” Skeeter asked anyway, wearing a mask of sympathy. “It must be so hard on you, though you’ve managed to keep yourself distracted, I see, what with your new teammates. And, while we’re on the topic, how does it feel to have your sister promoted to captain; a spot that surely should have gone to you, given your previous experience on the team?”

Narcissa took a step forward and Hermione noticed her wand slipping from her sleeve. Andromeda definitely saw it too, because she jumped forward and held Narcissa’s wrist down, keeping her wand out of view.

“That’s enough, Skeeter,” Andromeda said, “Both of them already told you, we’re not answering your questions. Why don’t you go back to reporting on Nifflers? At least with those, there’s nothing for you to make up.”

Skeeter’s nostrils flared with anger, but Andromeda grabbed Hermione with her free hand and pulled both witches away before anything else could happen. The man who arrived with the Black sisters led the way out of the crowd and didn’t stop until they were far enough away to talk without being overheard by anyone. They slipped down a side street that was barely occupied aside from a few people bustling about, who looked too busy to care about the small group.

“What did you say to her?” Narcissa asked, immediately fixing Hermione with an accusatory glare.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” Hermione snapped back. “Why would you assume that?”

“Cissa, don’t start,” Andromeda begged, looking like she couldn’t handle another argument between the two witches. “You know how Skeeter is, she doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“Fine,” Narcissa relented. “But if she publishes anything about us in the next edition–”

“She doesn’t have anything to write about,” Hermione insisted, letting her head fall back against the wall behind her. “I’d actually be sort of impressed if she could manage to come up with something out of that.”

“She won’t. Not with so many people around to witness you not giving her any answers. There’s no way she could twist that into something other than what it was.”

Narcissa didn’t look fully convinced, but Andromeda sounded confident in her theory, which made Hermione believe it too. Narcissa gave up on her interrogation and finally pocketed the wand she had drawn a few minutes before.

“Hi,” the man finally spoke up after a moment’s silence, giving Hermione an awkward smile. “I’m Ted, by the way.”

“Oh, right!” Andromeda said, seemingly forgetting Ted had been standing there the whole time. “Sorry, I got so caught up in the commotion, I completely forgot you two haven’t met. Hermione, this is my fiancé, Ted.”

“Nice to meet you, Hermione,” Ted said, shaking Hermione’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Hermione chuckled nervously, glancing between the two women on either side of her. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

“That depends. Weren’t you the one who knocked out my Andy that time?” Ted asked, raising his eyebrows at Hermione. Narcissa pressed her lips together, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Oh, uh…” Hermione blushed under his gaze and looked at the ground, scratching her neck lightly.

“Ted!” Andromeda gasped, elbowing her fiancé in the ribs. “Leave the poor girl alone. He’s joking, Hermione. He just doesn’t know how to read the room sometimes.”

Ted held up his hands in surrender. “She’s right, I’m sorry, Hermione. I promise, I’ve only ever heard good things about you.”

Hermione figured that couldn’t be entirely true with Narcissa in the picture, but she smiled gratefully. “I don’t think I knew you were engaged,” she commented, turning to Andromeda.

“Only as of yesterday,” she explained, linking her arm with Ted’s and looking up at him with a soft smile. She held out her left hand towards Hermione, showing off the ring.

“Wow,” Hermione breathed, inspecting the diamond closely. “It’s beautiful. Congratulations, you two.”

“Thank you,” Andromeda said happily. “Oh! We’re having a small get together tonight to celebrate, you should come.”

Narcissa didn’t look too happy with Andromeda’s suggestion, but she couldn’t say anything. Hermione tried to picture herself in the company of Narcissa, and the rest of her family and friends, for the evening and almost laughed out loud. She could only imagine what the rest of the Black family would think if a Muggleborn witch were to turn up on their doorstep.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Hermione said. Or ruin the evening by getting into an argument with Narcissa again, she added in her mind.

“Nonsense! You wouldn’t be intruding at all. Bring Ginny, Harry, and Ron along too. It could give us a chance to do a little team bonding.”

Hermione’s eyes drifted to the scar on Andromeda’s forehead. “Right, because the last team bonding exercise we did ended so well.”

“See, that’s the great thing about engagement parties; they typically don’t consist of many Bludgers flying around,” Andromeda replied in a matter-of-fact way.

“I don’t know…” Hermione began, trailing off slowly at the look Andromeda was giving her. In truth, she just didn’t want to have to spend an evening with Narcissa, but she couldn’t exactly say that out loud.

“Please,” Andromeda said, tilting her head slightly and giving Hermione her best puppy-dog eyes. In the end, Hermione couldn’t say no.

“Merlin, you’re way too good at that. Do all Blacks have a signature look they perfect in the mirror, or is that just you?” Hermione questioned, directing the last part to Narcissa.

“Who said I only had one?” Narcissa replied. Hermione didn’t doubt for a second that Narcissa would have a selection of expressions that she could use to manipulate people into doing her bidding at any given minute.

“No, I think Andy was just born with that ability,” Ted answered. “It really makes things difficult for me sometimes.”

“You love it,” Andromeda argued, slapping his shoulder gently. “Cissa’s definitely the master of it, though. Growing up, she always got what she wanted, whether it was from our parents or me and Bellatrix. She still does, actually. Why do you think I accepted the captain’s position?”

Narcissa smirked, like she was proud of that feat. “You deserve it. And, anyway, do you really think Granger and her friends would’ve followed me as captain?”

“That’s not why you turned it down, is it?” Hermione asked, her heart dropping. As much as she didn’t want to have Narcissa as her captain, she would feel awful if she was part of the reason the older witch turned it down.

“Of course not,” Narcissa said, looking at her like it was silly to even suggest that. “You’re not that important, Granger.”

Just like that, the shame that had started to grow inside Hermione retreated again. “Right, my mistake.”

“Anyway,” Andromeda interjected, fearful that another argument might be brewing, “We should get going. Lots to do to get ready for tonight.”

“Of course. Thanks for, you know, saving me back there.” Hermione gestured vaguely in the direction they had come from. “It was nice to meet you, Ted.”

“You too. I’ll see you again tonight?” Ted replied hopefully.

“You will,” Hermione answered with a smile. “I think Andromeda would hunt me down if I didn’t show up.”

“I would,” Andromeda confirmed jokingly. “And, please, call me Andy. Only my parents call me Andromeda, and I think we’re close enough at this stage to drop the formalities.”

“Fair enough,” Hermione agreed. “See you later, Andy.”

The three of them ventured back out onto Diagon Alley, leaving Hermione to herself. Not wanting to risk being spotted by Skeeter again, Hermione drew her wand and Apparated home. Crookshanks, who had been asleep on the sofa, raised his head and blinked slowly at Hermione before laying back down. Hermione put away her uniform and got to work sending an owl to each of her friends, extending the invite to Andromeda’s party that evening.

---

Hermione stood in front of Ted and Andromeda’s house later that night, clutching a bottle of champagne in her hands, but she was reluctant to knock on the door. She could hear the muffled sounds of a party going on on the other side of the door, which made her all the more nervous. She didn’t know what to expect once she entered the house. The Black family were known for being prejudiced against Muggleborns; would she be kicked out the minute she introduced herself?

“Hey,” Ginny’s voice came from behind her. “Are you going to stand there all night?”

“I was considering it,” Hermione admitted, greeting her best friend with a hug.

“Normally, I would probably agree with you,” Ginny said, studying the door with the same hesitation Hermione was exhibiting, “But it’s freezing out here and I really don’t fancy getting hypothermia. Come on.”

Ginny stepped up and knocked on the door. A few moments later, it swung open to reveal Andromeda in a long, black dress that hung off one shoulder. She grinned when she saw Hermione and Ginny, moving aside to let them in.

“It’s so good to see you both!” Andromeda said, hugging each of them in turn. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for having us,” Hermione replied, holding out the bottle of champagne. “This is for you.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that! Please, come in.” Andromeda took the bottle from Hermione and led her and Ginny inside. “Make yourselves at home.”

Hermione and Ginny admired the house while Andromeda gave them a quick tour. It was nowhere near as extravagant as Hermione expected for a Black, but it was still nicer than most houses Hermione had been in. They ended up in the living room where the rest of the guests were and Hermione was surprised to see how many faces she recognised. She had been expecting to find herself in a sea of purebloods who would never be caught dead in the same room as her, but that wasn’t the case at all.

Harry and Ron had arrived before them and were deep in conversation with Harry’s godfathers, Remus and Sirius, who appeared to be the only Black attending the party aside from the three sisters. Oliver was there too, catching up with Emmeline Vance. The two of them had been in the same year in Hogwarts, along with Andromeda.

Hermione noticed a few Ministry workers, presumably friends of Ted’s from work. The entirety of the Montrose Magpies team were also dotted around the room, socialising with fellow Quidditch players from other teams that Andromeda had gotten to know over the years. Hermione spotted Gwenog in the crowd, who waved her and Ginny over eagerly.

“There’s my star Chasers!” she exclaimed, pulling them both in for a hug. “Well, not exactly mine anymore, are you?”

“Oh, you know our hearts will always belong to you, Gwen,” Ginny replied, resting her hand over her own heart.

“They better. I’ll be counting on you two next season, after this whole World Cup thing is over,” Gwenog said, pretending to be annoyed. Then she lowered her voice and added, “I never said this, but we’re dying without you two. When I get my hands on Oliver Wood…”

“If it makes you feel any better, it hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing for us either,” Hermione laughed quietly. “But I never said that either.”

“Really?” Gwenog asked, looking intrigued. “You and Black haven’t miraculously become best friends, then?”

“Not even close,” Hermione grumbled, glancing around quickly to make sure the woman in question wasn’t nearby. “Although we haven’t had an argument in a few days and nobody else has ended up in St Mungo’s since last week, so it’s better than it was.”

“Wow,” Gwenog whistled. “Those are some low standards you’ve got, Granger. Wait, who ended up in St Mungo’s?”

Hermione waved a hand dismissively, shaking her head. “Never mind. You said things aren’t going so well with the Harpies?”

“Ugh,” Gwenog groaned, dragging her hand through her hair. “Don’t get me started. I love those girls with all my heart, but they’re driving me crazy. We had our first match without you two on Wednesday and it was a disaster. Please tell me Oliver can spare you for our next match?”

“You could ask, but I seriously doubt it. If he could have us on the pitch twenty four hours a day, I think he would,” Ginny said.

“I don’t suppose I could persuade either of you to sabotage the World Cup for the sake of saving my sanity?” Gwenog tried. “No running laps for six months?”

“Don’t even think about it, Jones.” Oliver joined their group, pointing an accusatory finger at the woman. ”I know we’re friends, but that could all end very quickly if you’re not careful.”

“Alright, fine,” Gwenog relented. “I suppose you can hold on to them, for now.”

“Thank you,” Oliver said with a grin. “Hey, while we’re here, can I pick your brain about training strategies?”

Ginny gave Hermione a wide-eyed look and tilted her head away from Oliver and Gwenog as they launched into a conversation about Quidditch tactics. Hermione nodded eagerly and they slipped away, leaving their two managers at it. Ted caught up with them soon after as they were floating through the crowd.

“Hermione, glad you could make it!” He greeted her with a quick hug and stepped back, his attention turning to Ginny, giving her a polite smile.

“Well, I figured I’d be no match for Andy if I didn’t turn up,” Hermione quipped, then gestured to her friend. “Have you met Ginny?”

“Not formally, though I feel like I already know you,” Ted answered, shaking her hand. Ginny tilted her head at his statement. “You’re Arthur’s daughter, right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Ginny replied. “You know my dad?”

“We cross paths occasionally in work,” Ted explained. “He talks about you a lot.”

“Gods, I hope he hasn’t told you too many embarrassing stories. Please, just don’t repeat any until I’ve had at least three drinks,” Ginny pleaded.

“No, nothing like that. He’s very proud of you; always talking about your latest Quidditch achievements. You should hear him now that you’re on the national team.” Ted cleared his throat and continued in an uncanny impression of Arthur’s voice. “Two of my kids are on that team, Tonks. Two of them! Can you believe it? That’s the Weasley name representing our country, that is.”

“Merlin, you’re way too good at that. It’s actually a little scary,” Ginny said, looking impressed. Ted took an exaggerated bow at her praise. “So, if you know my dad, do you work in Law Enforcement as well?”

“No, I work for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes,” Ted corrected. “But Arthur comes to me any time he gets his hands on some new Muggle invention that needs to be explained.”

“Ah, of course. I’m sorry for your trouble,” Ginny said, patting Ted’s arm with a sympathetic smile.

“Nonsense.” Ted noticed their empty hands then. “Oh, I’m being a terrible host! Can I get either of you a drink? We have… well, nearly everything. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Ted motioned for the two women to follow him into the kitchen, which was only separated from the living room by a wide arch, so they still had a full view of the party. There was a long table in the middle of the kitchen, with what did look to be every kind of alcoholic drink imaginable laid out along it.

“Pick your poison,” Ted said, holding his hands out towards the table.

“Ted! Where have you run off to, mate? Get back in here!”

Ted looked over his shoulder, back into the living room where the voice had come from. He took a deep breath in preparation when he saw one of his colleagues holding up a bottle in one hand and a stack of shot glasses in the other. He wrapped an arm around each of the Chasers next to him, giving their shoulders a light squeeze.

“Apologies, ladies, it seems that I’m being summoned. But, please, help yourselves to whatever you’d like. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

“Of course, go enjoy your night,” Hermione said, waving him off. Ted smiled at her gratefully before disappearing into the crowd.

Hermione and Ginny stood in front of the table, surveying their many options. Ginny picked out a bottle of red wine and poured herself a glass, while Hermione continued to struggle with her decision. She tapped her fingers on the edge of the table, scanning the labels on each of the bottles.

“I’m going to see if I can find Harry,” Ginny said, standing on her toes in an attempt to see over people’s heads. “Come find us when you’re done?”

“Sure.” Hermione nodded, smirking at her best friend. “Have fun.”

“Why’d you say it like that?” Ginny asked, her ears turning a light shade of pink.

“No reason,” Hermione hummed. It was obvious Ginny had developed a bit of a crush on her brother’s best friend while they were in school, though she was still yet to admit it out loud. “Go on, I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

Not too long after Ginny left, Hermione finally decided on a glass of Firewhisky. As she made her way back into the party, struggling to locate her friends again, she ended up running into Andromeda instead – quite literally. She had been so focused on scanning the faces around her, she failed to notice the woman directly in front of her. Andromeda grabbed Hermione’s shoulders to keep her from stumbling after the impact.

“There you are!” Andromeda said cheerfully. “I was wondering where you’d run off to.”

“Oh, Ginny and I were just catching up with Gwenog,” Hermione explained. “And, by catching up, I mean she was trying to convince us to sabotage the World Cup so we could go back to the Harpies sooner. Then we ran into Ted. He’s lovely, by the way; you two make a great couple.”

“He is,” Andromeda agreed, a dreamy expression crossing her face. “I can’t wait to be married to him and become our own family.”

“Can I ask you something?” Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself. The topic of family reminded her of her earlier observation about the lack of Black family members in the house.

Andromeda nodded, tilting her head at the younger witch. “Of course.”

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping here, but…” Hermione paused, wondering if she should even ask the question.

“What is it?” Andromeda encouraged.

“I couldn’t help but notice that your sisters and Sirius are the only members of your family that are here. Of course, you don’t have to tell me anything, I was just a little curious,” Hermione admitted with a shrug.

“Ah.” Andromeda nodded, taking a small sip of champagne before answering. “Well, it’s quite simple, really. My parents weren’t too happy when they found out I was dating Ted, given that he’s Muggleborn. We got into a huge fight over it and when I refused to break up with him, they disowned me. After they kicked me out, Bellatrix and Narcissa left too, so they haven’t spoken to any of us since then. Of course, you probably know about Sirius being disowned as well, after being sorted into Gryffindor. We all sort of became our own little family after that; the Outcasts of the Noble House of Black.”

Hermione’s head spun, but it wasn’t from the alcohol. Her eyes drifted back into the living room until they landed on Narcissa and Bellatrix, who were talking to their future brother-in-law, seemingly unbothered by the fact that he was a Muggleborn. She couldn’t picture either witch giving up their position in one of Britain’s most powerful pureblood families, and the inheritance that would most likely come with it, for anything that involved a Muggleborn. Andromeda watched her closely, allowing her a moment to collect her thoughts.

“When did this happen?” Hermione asked when she recovered from the initial shock. “How… how did you get by?”

“Ted and I started dating when we were sixteen, but I didn’t tell my parents until I was eighteen. I knew how they would react, so I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t still be dependent on them for anything when it happened,” Andromeda explained. “Sirius, being the only member of the family we could turn to, let us move in with him and Remus until Bella and I saved up enough to get our own apartment. Cissa stayed with us during the holidays until she graduated and moved in fully.”

“That must’ve been really tough on you,” Hermione commented. “You were so young.”

“It was, at first,” Andromeda admitted with a sad smile. She gestured across the room to her sisters, who had since been left alone as Ted moved on to socialise with the other guests. “But, they were my rock. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost either of them. Don’t get me wrong, Ted was amazing through it all, but I think he always felt a little guilty about the whole thing. I tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but I’m not sure he ever really believed me.”

Andromeda quietened down when Ted made his way through the crowd to join them. He wrapped his arm around Andromeda’s waist and leaned down to give her a chaste kiss. “Hi, love,” he murmured as he pulled back. “You two look like you’re having a pretty serious conversation. What’s going on?”

“Nothing important,” Andromeda replied, stroking Ted’s back lightly. “I was just telling Hermione that Narcissa and Bellatrix aren’t as bad as she thinks.”

“Ah.” Ted nodded knowingly. “Don’t worry, Hermione. They put up a tough exterior, but they’re big softies once you get to know them, trust me. I was once in your position as well, and now we’re practically family.”

Hermione never would’ve associated the word ‘soft’ with any of the Black sisters, but somehow Andromeda’s story made her doubt herself. Clearly, there was a side to Narcissa and Bellatrix that Hermione had never seen before; the side that would abandon their own parents for their sister and a Muggleborn.

“Anyway,” Ted continued, “I’m sorry to interrupt, Hermione, but do you mind if I steal my fiancée away from you for a while?”

“No, of course,” Hermione chuckled, “I’ve kept her from you long enough already.”

Ted held his arm out for Andromeda, who took it with a loving smile. As she was being led away, she glanced back at Hermione long enough to say, “Give them a chance. Who knows, they might surprise you.”

Hermione finished off her drink and, still being unable to spot her friends in the crowd, decided to retreat back into the kitchen for another round. As she stood there, pouring herself another glass of whiskey, she thought about Andromeda’s story. More specifically, she thought about Narcissa and wondered if she’d been wrong about her for all these years.

Hermione felt a presence next to her, startling her back into the presence. What shocked her even more was that the presence turned out to be the very woman she had just been thinking about, almost as if she’d been summoned by Hermione’s thoughts.

Hermione looked at Narcissa as she poured herself a drink, trying to picture the sixteen year old version of her who gave up everything to stand by her sister. That was supposed to be the same sixteen year old girl who always hated Hermione; something the younger witch had always put down to her being Muggleborn. Hermione couldn’t quite connect the dots between the two versions of Narcissa she now had in her mind.

Feeling Hermione’s gaze on her, Narcissa raised her head to meet the younger witch’s eyes with a furrowed brow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Hermione snapped herself out of her thoughts, just then realising how long she’d been staring for. “Uh, nothing. Sorry.”

Narcissa gave her a strange look, but didn’t question her further. Hermione returned her attention to making her drink and they stood next to each other silently, until Andromeda’s words resurfaced in her head. Give them a chance.

“So…” Hermione dragged the word out awkwardly. “Italy, huh?”

“I’m sorry?” Narcissa asked, seeming confused. She glanced around, as if trying to figure out whether Hermione was talking to someone else.

Hermione blushed, mentally berating herself for apparently losing her ability to hold a normal conversation. “Our first match,” she explained. “We’ll be playing against Italy. It was in The Daily Prophet this morning.”

“Oh, right.” Hermione wasn’t sure if Narcissa was going to say anything else after that, but she did speak up again after an agonising minute of silence. “They’re a good team. They’ll likely be a tough opponent.”

Hermione hummed softly in agreement. “I thought so too.”

There was another long silence between the two witches, but neither one made any move to leave, even after Narcissa was finished with pouring herself a drink. She turned around and leaned back against the table, taking a swig of wine. Hermione mirrored her position, standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder with the older witch.

“Is that where we are now?” Narcissa asked, keeping her eyes trained ahead of her. “Awkward small talk at parties?”

“Awkward? How dare you,” Hermione asked, placing a hand on her chest in mock offence. “I’ll have you know, that was some of my very best work.”

“Oh, well in that case, I’m flattered,” Narcissa replied dryly. “What have I done to deserve your very best, then?”

Hermione ran her thumb along the pattern etched into her whiskey glass, suddenly becoming very interested in its intricate details. “Nothing,” she answered eventually, deciding not to tell her about her conversation with Andromeda. “Never mind.”

Narcissa’s nose scrunched up in confusion while Hermione continued to avoid making eye contact with her. “You’re acting strange. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. I’m drunk,” Hermione lied. “Why aren’t you out there with the rest of the party? I thought you’d be catching up with your old teammates from the Montrose Magpies.”

Narcissa let out a heavy sigh before responding. “There doesn’t seem to be much to catch up on, other than the Qualifiers,” she said, a hint of bitterness behind her words.

Hermione nodded in understanding. She could imagine how tiring it would be, constantly being asked about your dead friends during what’s supposed to be a night of celebration. If she were in Narcissa’s position, she would probably be hiding out as well.

“So, your only other option is hanging out with me,” Hermione said in a light tone. “That’s how you know things are bad.”

“Yes, indeed,” Narcissa replied with a quiet laugh. “Terrible.”

Hermione could have easily taken it as an insult, but it sounded too half-hearted to be meant that way. She tried to picture her friends’ reactions if they could see her now; talking to Narcissa without any arguments involved, even making jokes together. They would probably assume she’d lost her mind. Hermione was starting to think that was true.

“What about you?” Narcissa asked, changing the subject. “Why are you here, making awkward – or, sorry, your best small talk with me, rather than being with your friends? Where are they?”

“I think they’re around somewhere,” Hermione said, gesturing vaguely towards the living room. “I just came to get a drink.”

“Oh.” Narcissa’s expression became unreadable. “Well, don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you’d rather be spending your evening with them.”

Hermione, for some reason, didn’t want to agree. “Oh, no, that’s not…” she paused and glanced at Narcissa, figuring that was probably her way of saying she was finished with the conversation. So, she just nodded instead. “Yeah, I suppose I’d better go find them. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Walking away from Narcissa, Hermione felt a strange tugging sensation in her gut. She couldn’t quite determine what it was, but it almost felt like disappointment. She shook herself off, forcing the feeling back down as she rejoined her friends amongst the rest of the party.

Chapter 6

Hermione cracked the door to the changing rooms open and peeked outside, watching anxiously as the stands began to fill. The commentator was setting up his microphone in the box, while the seats around him were being taken up by reporters. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight.

“Hermione, please pay attention,” Oliver said, gesturing to the blackboard next to him, which he was using to draw diagrams of Quidditch moves on.

“There’s so many people out there,” Hermione said, ignoring her manager. She bit her lip and poked her head a little further out of the changing rooms, craning her neck to see the stands above her too.

“Why are you acting like you’ve never played in a match before?” Narcissa huffed. “Haven’t you ever seen a full stadium before, or do the Holyhead Harpies not have any fans?”

“Of course I have,” Hermione snapped. “And we’ve got plenty of fans. It’s just… This is different.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s the exact same as any other match.”

Hermione finally closed the door, the view of the pitch making her increasingly queasy the longer she looked, and turned to the older witch. “Really? Then why have you practically picked that bench apart with your bare hands?”

Narcissa’s fingers stalled and she looked down at the small collection of splinters she had pulled out of the bench, apparently without her own knowledge. She cleared her throat and wiped her hands on her trousers, focusing on Oliver’s blackboard in order to avoid eye contact with the rest of the team.

Hermione almost apologised for calling attention to Narcissa’s nervous habit, but the scowl on the older witch’s face made her think better of the idea. She kept quiet and took her place at the end of the bench, next to Ginny. Oliver threw his head back and sighed before continuing with his pre-game speech.

“Look, I know some of you are feeling the pressure today, but please don’t let your nerves get the best of you. You all know what you’re doing on the pitch. Merlin, you’re seven of the best Quidditch players in the country! Sure, we’ve had our ups and downs, but you’ve all put in so much work over the last few weeks. I believe in all of you, and if you just believe in yourselves too, I know we can win.”

“Good to know you haven’t lost your knack for giving pep-talks, Oliver,” Harry chuckled. “I’ve missed those.”

Oliver’s confidence did little to ease Hermione’s anxiety, but it seemed to encourage her teammates. At least if she were the only one feeling skittish, they might still have a decent chance. Just as long as she didn’t mess anything up too badly. Hermione fidgeted with the hem of her jersey and took a few deep breaths, trying to fight the feeling that she might throw up. She glanced over at Ron, trusting that he would share in her suffering, but even he just looked excited. Hermione let out a soft groan and crossed her arms over her stomach.

“Are you okay?” Ginny whispered with concern in her eyes. “I haven’t seen you like this since the tryouts for the Harpies.”

“How are you all perfectly fine?” Hermione hissed back. “The entire country is going to be watching us today; maybe rooting for us to crash and burn. This could destroy our careers, Gin. Why am I the only one panicking here?”

“You’re seriously overthinking this,” Ginny said, patting Hermione on the back. “Come on, this has been your dream since you were eleven. You’ve finally made it. Just enjoy it and stop worrying about what may or may not happen. It’s not like Gwenog will kick us off the team if we lose today. Our careers are safe.”

Oliver glanced at his watch and clapped his hands together. “Alright guys, it’s time. Get out there and make me proud.”

Oliver led the team out of the changing rooms, but Hermione couldn’t get herself to stand up and follow them. She was frozen to the spot, gripping her broom until her knuckles turned white. Every terrible outcome she could think of was flooding her brain, making it impossible for her to consider an ending where they win.

“Granger.”

Narcissa’s voice startled Hermione enough to stop her mind from racing. The older witch was standing in the doorway alone. Hermione could hear cheering from the stands outside, indicating that the match was about to kick off.

“We’re about to start,” Narcissa informed her, turning to leave again. “Oh, and leave the spiralling to Weasley, will you? It suits him better.”

Hermione squinted at the back of Narcissa’s head as she walked out of the changing rooms. The constant switching between throwing snide remarks back and forth, to almost being friendly with each other was starting to give Hermione whiplash. Before she could think about it too much, the commentator’s voice boomed across the stadium, introducing the players from both teams to the fans. Hermione jumped up and ran outside to join her team, just in time to mount her broom and rise into the air alongside the other players.

The referee blew her whistle and then the Quaffle was in the air. Hermione watched it rise and leaned forward, racing towards the centre of the pitch. Narcissa did the same, but Hermione stretched her arm out and managed to grab the Quaffle first, then rolled to the left to dodge the opposing Italian Chaser. Despite the wind rushing in her ears, she could still hear the commentator speaking to the audience from the box.

“Granger gets the Quaffle first! England is off to a good start, and they really need it, folks. The team has been under fire for taking on the positions of the fallen players, so this match could be a turning point for them. The players on the pitch today certainly have a lot riding on this match!”

Hermione scoffed and tuned out the voice, focusing on the task at hand instead. She couldn’t afford to get distracted by anything. As she flew towards the goals with her heart in her throat, Hermione felt someone flying next to her and glanced over, finding Andromeda arriving just in time to beat away a Bludger that was aiming for her. She nodded her thanks to her captain, who gave her a thumbs up and flew away to defend their other teammates.

Hermione grew closer to the end of the pitch, but before she could reach her destination, she spied two of Italy’s Chasers closing in on her. Moretti was coming at her from the left, while De Luca was on the right. Hermione was still too far from the goals to score, but the Chasers were blocking her from passing to any of her teammates. Just when Hermione thought she was going to lose the Quaffle to one of her two opponents, she caught a glimpse of blonde hair, darting ahead of De Luca. Without giving it a second thought, Hermione dropped the ball and kicked.

At the same time that her foot collided with the Quaffle, Moretti tackled her from the side, sending them both into a tumble. With the world spinning around her, Hermione couldn’t see whether she had aimed correctly. For all she knew, she could’ve given the Quaffle to the enemy. She managed to get control of her broom and stop the spin as half of the stadium erupted in a cheer. Hermione swivelled her head around, trying to figure out what she missed.

“Black scores!” the commentator announced. “England takes the first goal of the match, but is it just beginner’s luck, or could we possibly have underestimated our new team?”

For the first time in her life, Hermione was happy to hear that Narcissa had scored a goal. She felt a grin spreading across her face before she could stop it while she watched Andromeda and Bellatrix celebrating with their sister. The first ten points of the match going to England raised Hermione’s spirits a little.

Hermione saw the Italian Keeper gearing up to kick the Quaffle back into play and brought her focus back to the game. There was still a long way to go before they won. She flew towards the goals, attempting to intercept the Keeper’s pass to his teammates, but De Luca was faster, and took off in the opposite direction with the Quaffle before Hermione knew what was happening.

Hermione noticed Narcissa shaking her head in disappointment before the two witches sped after the Italian Chaser. They were only reaching the halfway point between the two sets of hoops when De Luca reached England’s goals and took his shot. Hermione crossed her fingers for Ron, but the Keeper misjudged De Luca’s aim and rolled to the right, while the Quaffle went left. Italy’s fans roared from the stands as the commentator declared the now tied scores.

“Granger, you need to be faster than that!” Narcissa called out. “If you’d intercepted the pass, he wouldn’t have scored.”

“Yeah, well, where were you?” Hermione threw back. “You were closer than me! Or were you just too busy celebrating your one goal to get back into the match?”

“That’s one more goal than you’ve scored,” Narcissa replied.

“Cut it out, you two!” Andromeda hissed, flying in between the two witches. “We’re not in training anymore, you can’t go starting fights in front of a stadium full of people – including Skeeter. Get it together!”

Andromeda flew off, followed by Narcissa, leaving a stunned Hermione behind. She’d never gotten the chance to see Andromeda fully talking on the captain’s role before, so she wasn’t expecting the anger in her voice while she scolded the two witches. Hermione noticed one of the Italian Beaters smirking at them, having overheard the entire interaction. Hermione rolled her eyes at her and chased after Narcissa, who had just caught the Quaffle that Ron threw from the goals.

Narcissa’s path to the goals was quickly blocked by a Chaser and, with a Beater threatening her from one side, she had no other choice but to pass to Hermione. Hermione caught it and continued to the end of the pitch, but the Keeper read her moves easily and saved the shot. Narcissa groaned loudly behind her, but she didn’t say anything this time, seeing as Andromeda was hovering close by.

Five goals later, England were down 60-10. It seemed that their first goal had indeed been beginner’s luck. Morale had dropped significantly, both on the pitch and off. Hermione noticed England’s fans putting their flags down and taking off hats and scarves in their country’s colours, like they were too embarrassed to even be associated with the team.

Italy still had the Quaffle and their Chaser had almost reached the end of the pitch yet again. Ron’s nerves had finally kicked in, the six goals he had failed to prevent having knocked his confidence substantially. He looked like he was shaking as Moretti approached him. Hermione leaned forward, picking up more speed, preparing to tackle the Chaser for the Quaffle. She was desperate to stop Italy from scoring another goal.

A Bludger came whizzing towards the pair and crashed into Moretti, sending her careening into Hermione. Somehow, she still managed to keep a tight grip on the Quaffle despite the tangle of limbs they ended up in. Hermione, not bothering to try and get control of herself, began to wrestle the woman for the Quaffle instead. She was distantly aware of the ground getting closer by the second, but she didn’t care.

Finally, Moretti chose to relieve her grip on the ball in favour of pulling up on her broom to save herself from crashing. Hermione, now with the Quaffle in hand, jerked her own broom back quickly, coming to a stop just inches off the ground. She took a deep breath to steady herself and took off again, heading across the pitch towards Italy’s goals. By some miracle, she made it to the end of the pitch relatively unopposed.

Hermione could hear the wind whistling behind her from a Bludger, but her two Beaters were too far away to do anything about it. Before she lost her chance, she threw the Quaffle as hard as she could and ducked out of the way. She heard the Bludger pass her by, exactly where her head had been not even two seconds before. Her heart skipped a beat from the close call, then again when she heard the commentator’s voice.

“Granger scores! After half an hour, England has finally broken Italy’s winning streak. They still have a long way to go, but could this turn the tide?”

Hermione let out a whoop of joy, not quite believing her ears. There were still forty points in the difference, but it was something, at least. Ginny pulled up next to her, thumping her on the back in her excitement.

“You’re crazy,” Ginny said with a wide smile. “You could’ve seriously injured yourself, heading for the ground like that.”

“I’m just glad it paid off,” Hermione replied. “Even if I survived the fall, Black probably would’ve murdered me for losing the Quaffle.”

Ginny sniggered as she followed Hermione’s gaze to Narcissa, who looked mildly impressed by her daring move. Narcissa caught them watching her and quickly masked her expression while looking away.

The Italian Keeper threw the Quaffle onto the pitch again, so Hermione and Ginny parted ways. Hermione watched Narcissa throw herself in front of De Luca to steal the Quaffle and loop back around to the goals, immediately scoring another ten points. The Keeper looked dazed as the Quaffle darted past his head and through the hoop behind him, leaving him with little time to react.

“And Black scores again!” the commentator cried out in disbelief. “That’s another ten points to England, bringing the score to 30-60. England are swiftly closing the gap with Italy.”

The Italian players didn’t look too happy by that piece of information. One of the Beaters tightened her grip on her bat and her eyes did a sweep of the pitch, like she was searching for a Bludger to use against the English team, even if they didn’t have the Quaffle. Hermione gulped, getting the feeling that the match would only get harder for them.

The Keeper collected the Quaffle and managed to pass to the third Chaser, Rossi, without any interference from England. Rossi spun around and flew between Narcissa and Hermione faster than either of them could move to stop her.

Bellatrix sent a Bludger into the Chaser’s path, but the Italian Beater smacked it right back at her. Bellatrix hadn’t been expecting the counter and barely managed to dive out of the way in time. A few fans ducked as the Bludger soared over their heads before changing direction and heading back onto the pitch.

Hermione and Narcissa were both close on Rossi’s tail, while Ginny was defending Moretti nearby so Rossi wouldn’t be able to pass. Hermione saw De Luca coming up on the other side of them, completely open, but there was a part of her that still didn’t want to let Narcissa have all the glory. She had already scored two out of their three goals so far and Hermione’s insecurity was getting the better of her. In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to give up the chance of beating Narcissa in their chase.

If Narcissa noticed De Luca creeping up on them, she didn’t move to defend him either. She glanced at Hermione, then picked up speed, pulling ahead of the younger witch. Hermione, taking it as a challenge, did the same thing.

While they were both focused on beating each other, Rossi slowed down and pulled off to the side, empty-handed. Hermione and Narcissa stopped in their tracks, looking between each other and a smug Rossi, trying to figure out what happened while they were distracted.

“Looking for this?”

Both heads turned towards De Luca, flew past them, showing off the Quaffle he was now in possession of. He smirked at the two Chasers and kicked the Quaffle into the goals before either of them had the chance to react. The glare Narcissa trained on Hermione practically had the younger witch cowering in fear. She was sure Narcissa was going to tackle her to the ground at any second.

“I could’ve stopped Rossi if you weren’t in my way,” Narcissa said coldly.

“We’re back to that now, are we?” Hermione asked, rolling her eyes at the older witch. “I’m just in your way again, not your teammate?”

“Not if you’re going to mess things up for us,” Narcissa replied. “You should’ve been defending De Luca. At least Weasley was doing her job properly.”

“Why should I have been defending him? You could’ve gone on defence and left me to chase Rossi,” Hermione retorted. “You just can’t stand the idea that I might be as good as you, can you?”

“Is that what you think?” Narcissa laughed, but it sounded more like she was mocking Hermione. “You honestly think I’m, what, threatened by you?”

Ron, completely unaware of the fight breaking out on the pitch, kicked the ball to Ginny, allowing the match to continue. Ginny was quickly overrun by the three Italian Chasers and, with Hermione and Narcissa distracted, she was struggling to evade them.

“It’s not like you’ve never seen me play before,” Hermione said. “You know I’m good, why can’t you just admit it?”

“Clearly you haven’t seen yourself play during the last few weeks.”

“Maybe because you’ve hardly given me a chance to play!”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, you two!” Andromeda exclaimed, drawing nearer to the two witches. “I’ve already told you once to cut it out. Quit trying to play against each other for one bloody minute and start playing against our actual opponent!”

“And that’s another ten points to Italy!” The commentator’s voice startled the three witches, who were too caught up in the argument to notice that Moretti had stolen the Quaffle from Ginny and scored again. Italy were fifty points ahead now; a gap that was starting to feel impossible to bridge for the English players. Hermione could even see Oliver standing on the sideline with his hands on his head, looking like they had already lost.

Andromeda threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Both of you are really testing my patience today.”

“Sorry Andy,” Hermione and Narcissa both mumbled in unison.

“I’ll never understand you two.” Andromeda shook her head and left them alone.

As Hermione looked at Narcissa, she thought the exact same thing. The other witch was a mystery to her, but one she would have to solve at another time. Preferably when they weren’t in the middle of a match.

Narcissa flew past Hermione, almost close enough to knock her off her broom, and caught Ron’s pass from the goal. She got about halfway down the pitch when Rossi and Moretti started to line themselves up on either side of her, with De Luca flying at them from the opposite direction, gearing up for a Parkin’s Pincer. Narcissa pulled back sharply on her broom, causing the Italian Chasers to crash into each other, and passed to Hermione.

With the three Chasers temporarily incapacitated while they tried to untangle themselves, Hermione seized the opportunity and shot for the goals. She bit her lip, watching the Quaffle glide through the air, and felt time slow down. Narcissa could’ve passed to Ginny, but she chose Hermione. She finally gave her a chance, and Hermione knew if she messed it up, she probably wouldn’t be given a second one.

The Keeper launched himself towards the Quaffle, but it just grazed his fingertips before passing through the hoop.

“A brilliant play from Black and Granger!” the commentator cheered. “That’s 80-40! The game is still in Italy’s favour, but England are slowly catching up.”

“That’s more like it!” Andromeda called, clapping her hands with a small smile. “Keep that up, you two, and we’ll catch up to them in no time.”

For a moment, they all really thought they could do it. The Italians recovered from their collision just in time for Rossi to catch the Keeper’s pass. Narcissa followed after her and, this time, Hermione left her to it and moved to defend the other Chasers with Ginny. As they neared England’s end of the pitch, Narcissa caught up to Rossi and tried to tackle her, but a Bludger came hurtling towards her and struck her shoulder, knocking her off course. Rossi faked going right and when Ron followed her, she changed course and kicked the ball through the hoop on the far side of the set.

Thus began another scoring streak for Italy. England could do little but watch as their opponents scored goal after goal, widening the gap by another sixty points in what felt like mere minutes. Even the few times they did manage to get their hands on the Quaffle, it was quickly stolen back by the Italian Chasers. The English players had given up entirely on any hopes they had of winning. Andromeda was doing her best to keep her team motivated, but her words didn’t do much to help. They could only hope that the Snitch would make an appearance soon to bring an end to their misery.

Hermione looked up to where Harry was patrolling the pitch in search of the one thing that might save them, but he shook his head back at her. She let her head fall back and sighed. This was possibly the worst match she had ever played in. It felt like the torture would never end. She almost wished Oliver would just call for a forfeit and be done with it all.

De Luca bolted past her with the Quaffle and Hermione followed after him, though with considerably less energy than she should. She figured it was pointless tiring herself out even more when it wouldn’t even make a difference in the end. Narcissa was on the other side of him, but she didn’t seem particularly invested in the chase either.

Bellatrix whacked a Bludger at De Luca and, by some miracle, it hit him right in the stomach and he doubled over, letting the Quaffle fall from his grip. It took a second for Hermione and Narcissa to realise what happened, but when they did, they both raced for the ball at the same time as it fell through the air. Neither witch stopped to consider that they were also headed straight for each other.

Hermione stretched out her hand and just when her fingers brushed the Quaffle, she felt the other witch’s body collide with hers. Hermione struggled to gain control over her broom while they fell and Narcissa wasn’t faring much better. Hermione lost count of how many times they rotated in the air before coming to a hard stop on the ground. Both of them lay flat in a daze, trying to catch their breath. Hermione opened her eyes to see a number of players looking down on her, but they all looked exactly like Andromeda and they were spinning in a circle, which made Hermione nauseous. She groaned and closed her eyes again.

After a moment she felt Narcissa moving, trying to untangle her limbs from Hermione’s. When they were finally clear of each other, both witches slowly stood up and found their balance. Hermione took a few breaths to calm herself, thankful that the stadium had finally stopped spinning.

“What in Merlin’s name was that, Granger?” Narcissa cried, shoving Hermione roughly. The younger witch stumbled back and almost fell to the ground again, still not fully steady on her feet after the fall. “I would’ve had it if it weren’t for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked, fixing her robes which had slipped off her shoulder when Narcissa pushed her. “You crashed into me!”

Narcissa moved forward, like she was going to push the younger witch again, but stopped just in front of her. “You were the one who came speeding in without looking at your surroundings, like usual.”

Hermione shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. “And there you go again, blaming me for everything and ignoring your own part in it. When are you going to admit that we’ve both been a mess since we started this?”

“Speak for yourself! You’re the one constantly losing the Quaffle and failing to steal it back, even in training,” Narcissa accused. “At least I haven’t put anyone in the hospital yet.”

“Yeah, well, you almost did just now!” Hermione gestured to the spot where their brooms were still lying, forgotten in the crash. “You’re saying I didn’t look at my surroundings, but clearly you didn’t either, or you would’ve seen me coming. Or, you did see me and kept going anyway, in which case it is your fault.”

“Black, Granger, that’s enough!” Oliver stormed onto the pitch from the sidelines. At the same time, Andromeda landed on the ground and dropped her broom, coming to Oliver’s aid. Andromeda put herself in front of Narcissa, forcing her sister away from Hermione, while Oliver did the same thing with the other witch. “I told you two weeks ago that if we were going to do this, it would be without all the arguments, didn’t I?”

Oliver turned his head between the two witches, who nodded silently. “Exactly,” he continued, “Yet all you’ve done this whole match is fight each other instead of focusing on winning. Even now, we’re down 140-40 and all you two seem to care about is blaming each other. If you can’t push aside whatever it is that’s going on between you two, we’re never going to get anywhere. Why don’t either of you seem to realise that you’re affecting the whole team?”

Hermione and Narcissa hung their heads in shame. The referee blew her whistle, startling the group on the ground. Somehow, while they were arguing, they had missed the end of the match. Oliver’s face drained of colour, assuming the worst. None of them moved, afraid to look up and confirm their mutual fear.

Then, surprising them even more, they heard England’s national anthem begin to play. The fans in the stadium roared and took out their flags again. Harry soared around the pitch, showing off the Golden Snitch to the crowd. Hermione’s jaw dropped and as she looked at the three people next to her, she saw a similar expression on each of their faces.

“What the hell just happened?” Hermione stammered. “How did… What?”

“I think Harry just saved your arses,” Andromeda whispered, glancing at the two witches.

Oliver recovered from his shock and let out a cheer, running to throw his arms around Harry before he’d even dismounted from his broom. Harry staggered backwards and gripped onto Oliver for dear life. Ginny and Ron landed and joined their hug, while Bellatrix stood nearby, just watching them.

“Come on, guys,” Andromeda said and jogged towards the group. She grabbed Bellatrix by the arm and dragged her into the group too.

Hermione followed Andromeda and immediately got pulled in by Ginny and Harry. She looked around, but she couldn’t see Narcissa within the circle. The older witch was standing behind her, looking unsure as Bellatrix had been a few moments before.

Hermione gave her a small smile and took a step back, holding out an arm towards Narcissa. Narcissa hesitated and opened her mouth, looking like she was going to deny the invitation, but Hermione clicked her tongue impatiently and pulled Narcissa in. Ginny widened the circle to let the older witch in and patted her on the shoulder. Narcissa responded with a small, almost unnoticeable smile and gave in to the hug.

Hermione felt Narcissa’s arm wrap around her waist and glanced at the older witch, who was looking right back at her. Her cheeks grew inexplicably hot under Narcissa’s gaze and she quickly looked away, choosing to turn her attention to Harry instead.

The group broke apart and lined up to shake hands with the Italian players. Then, within minutes, they were bombarded by reporters, all speaking over each other until their questions became incomprehensible. They did their best to answer as many questions as they could, while still avoiding any asked by Rita Skeeter. All she wanted to hear about was Hermione and Narcissa’s arguments throughout the match.

Finally, Oliver managed to pull them away and waved the reporters off. He led the team back into the changing rooms, where they all collapsed onto the benches, exhausted from their hours of playing. Hermione was dreading Oliver’s post-game speech. All she wanted to do was sleep.

“Alright, while we did in fact win, today’s match has shown us we still have a lot to work on,” Oliver began. He glanced around at the player’s in front of them and took in their tired expressions, then changed his mind. “But, we can get into that at training on Monday. Go home, get some rest. Be proud of yourselves.”

Hermione never changed so quickly in her life. She packed up her bag and said goodbye to her teammates within minutes of Oliver dismissing them and Apparated home, falling into bed immediately. Even though she knew she hadn’t been at her best that day, she still managed to fall asleep with a smile on her face, knowing they’d won their first match.

Chapter 7

“Right, has everyone got everything?” Oliver asked as he rushed around the changing rooms, making sure everyone was fully packed. “Uniforms, brooms, wands?”

“Yes, Mum,” Ginny answered, earning a laugh from her teammates. Hermione nudged her and gave her a look that said ‘be quiet’, while trying to stifle her own giggles.

“Very funny,” Oliver replied dryly. “Just don’t come crying to me if you leave anything behind.”

“They do have shops in France, Oliver, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Hermione triple-checked her bag and did another sweep of the room, ensuring she wasn’t forgetting anything essential for the trip. Her eyes landed on Oliver’s blackboard and she paused, looking at the two copies of The Daily Prophet that were pinned to the board. Oliver thought it would be a good idea to keep all of Skeeter’s articles so that one day they might be able to look back on them and laugh after they’d won the World Cup. Hermione just thought it was depressing to see them every day, like Skeeter herself was standing there in the corner of the room, taunting them.

The first article Skeeter had written when she found out they were a team was there, along with her most recent publication from after their match against Italy. While Oliver continued to fuss over the team’s bags, Hermione’s mind drifted back to the day the second article was released.

---

“Good news, everybody,” Oliver said as he burst into the changing rooms. He held out a copy of The Daily Prophet, showing it off to the seven players in front of him. “We’ve made the headlines again.”

A collective groan made its way around the room. Oliver’s tone was enough to tell them what the article was about without any of them even having to read it. Still, curiosity got the better of Hermione and she leaned forward to get a better look. The picture on the front was from the end of their match against Italy, of her and Narcissa arguing on the pitch while Andromeda and Oliver tried to pull them apart.

“Black-Granger Rivalry Threatens England’s Success,” Oliver announced, flipping the newspaper over to read it aloud. He glanced at the two witches over the top of the page and raised an eyebrow. Hermione looked downwards to avoid his gaze and began fidgeting with her hands.

“All eyes were on England’s national team this weekend as they took to the skies for their very first match against Italy. However, it seems the biggest rivalry on the pitch that day wasn’t between England and Italy. In fact, there’s an even bigger rivalry brewing between two of Enlgand’s very own players,” Oliver read on.

“Narcissa Black, sole survivor of the fire at the World Cup Qualifiers, and Hermione Granger, star Chaser of the Holyhead Harpies—“

“Really?” Narcissa interrupted with a scoff. “That’s all I am now? I’m the best Chaser in the league, but Granger gets ‘star Chaser’, and all I get is that? As if that’s fair.”

Hermione bit her tongue to keep herself from responding to Narcissa’s comment. She knew better than to poke that bear, especially with Oliver in the same room when he was already annoyed by their fighting.

Oliver gave Narcissa a sympathetic smile before continuing. “—Long term arch-enemies, were seen to be fighting multiple times throughout the match, with one argument even ending in a physical altercation.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at that. Leave it to Skeeter to make their little spat out to be something far more dramatic than it was. Even though Narcissa had indeed pushed her, it was hardly strong enough to be considered a physical fight. She almost voiced her opinion out loud, but ultimately decided she’d rather die than openly defend Narcissa.

“One member of the Italian team who witnessed the fight said, ‘I’ve never seen such violence between opponents, let alone teammates. It was absurd! I’m shocked England would allow such a thing to happen on the pitch.’” Oliver was speaking through gritted teeth now, and his expression was near murderous. Andromeda placed a hand on his arm and pried the newspaper out of his grip before he could read any further and decide to hunt Skeeter down.

“Oh, nobody said that!” Hermione said in a huff. “She could at least try to make it believable. Half the country was watching the game; everyone saw what happened. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Maybe so, but somehow, Skeeter still manages to convince everyone of her words no matter how many witnesses there are.” Oliver sighed and sat on the bench, hanging his head in defeat. “We need to turn things around, and soon. We need a win – a proper one. We barely scraped by over the weekend; if it weren’t for Harry, we probably wouldn’t be sitting here today. But we can’t count on him to save us next week, so does anyone have any ideas?”

The room fell silent while the team tried to come up with their saving grace. Oliver got up again and started pacing back and forth, Harry and Ron quietly traded ideas back and forth, and the Black sisters seemed to be having some kind of silent conversation. Hermione did her best to brainstorm, but for the first time, possibly ever, her mind was completely blank. Then, after a painful few minutes of nothing, it finally hit her.

“I think Bellatrix had a good idea, actually,” Hermione spoke up, drawing the attention of her team. Bellatrix turned to her with a furrowed brow, while the rest of the team looked on with interest. Even Oliver finally stopped his marching and turned to Hermione, looking hopeful.

“I did?” Bellatrix asked. “When?”

“The night of our first training session, when Ginny and I met you in The Three Broomsticks,” Hermione reminded her. “You told us the other teams would see us as weak; that we’d be an easy target, right?”

“Right.” Bellatrix nodded slowly, but she still looked lost. “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”

“What if we make ourselves appear weak?” Hermione suggested. She glanced around at the uncertain faces around her and cleared her throat before continuing. “France will already be expecting us to be awful, so we will be — at first, that is.”

A look of understanding crossed Bellatrix’s features and a small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. “We make them believe we’re terrible so they’ll let their guard down,” she said, “And then, when they start to think it’ll be an easy win…”

“We hit them with everything they’ve got,” Hermione finished. “If we can pull it off, we might just be able to score enough points to get a decent lead before they know what’s hit them.”

Both witches grinned at each other and then looked at their manager eagerly. Oliver’s face was scrunched up in concentration and he took a deep breath, taking a minute to consider their proposal before responding. Hermione could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“I don’t know,” Oliver said eventually. “It’s risky. What if they get the bigger lead while you’re all pretending to be terrible, and we can’t catch up? Or, what if they don’t believe the act in the first place? No, we can’t rely solely on a plan that might not even work.”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult to believe after our match against Italy,” Hermione said. “Especially if they get their hands on a copy of Skeeter’s article, which they probably already have.”

“Yeah, Skeeter probably already posted it to them herself,” Ginny scoffed.

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Bellatrix said in support of her teammate. “Though, I can’t take credit. Granger, this was all your idea, not mine. I only said that to make you and Weasley realise why I was going hard on you, but you were the one who turned it into an actual plan.”

Hermione couldn’t be sure if Bellatrix was trying to clear herself of any blame in case the plan went south, but she smiled nonetheless. Oliver was still shaking his head in doubt. A few hushed words were exchanged between the rest of their teammates, debating the idea.

“It’s… not bad.” Narcissa looked pained to admit it, but she gave Hermione a small nod. “I think it could work.”

“Well, if those two are on the same page, I think it’s worth a shot,” Andromeda said in surprise. “It’s the best we’ve got, Oliver.”

“Alright,” Oliver relented. “If none of you have anything better, I suppose we’ll give it a go.”

---

The sudden reminder that they would be using her plan during their next match made Hermione’s stomach turn. If they were to lose, it might as well be entirely her fault.

“Hermione?” Ginny’s voice pulled her out of her daydream. “Are you okay? The Portkey is about to activate, we should get going.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered, grabbing her bag in one hand and her broomstick in the other. “Let’s go.”

Hermione followed Ginny into the circle that had been formed by the team, where Oliver was holding an old, worn-out hat that would transport them to France. Travelling by Portkey was slightly more comfortable than Apparition, but Hermione wasn’t sure whether she could handle it just then without vomiting due to her nerves. She stuffed her broomstick under her arm and held onto the hat, closing her eyes so she could try to focus on her breathing instead of the unpleasant sensation of being magically transported to another country.

They appeared moments later in the reception of a hotel and Hermione immediately had to sit down on one of the few armchairs dotted around the room, breathing deeply to fight the wave of nausea that swept over her. She felt eyes on her, but she waved her teammates’ concerns off before they could even voice them.

“You guys go ahead and check in,” she told them. “I just need a minute.”

“Are you sure?” Ginny asked, moving towards the empty chair next to Hermione. “I’ll sit with you until you’re ready.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m fine, honestly,” Hermione assured her. “I’ll be there soon.”

Despite the worry still evident in Ginny’s expression, she nodded and followed the rest of the team to the desk. Hermione didn’t notice Narcissa hanging back until the woman’s hand was in her eye line, holding a wrapped sweet. She tilted her head upwards, giving the older woman a questioning look as she hesitantly took the sweet from her.

“Peppermint,” Narcissa explained. “I find it helps with the nausea.”

“Oh.” Hermione stared at her for a moment before popping the sweet into her mouth. The calming effect it had on her stomach was almost instant and she let out a long sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Narcissa gave her a short nod in response and turned away, leaving Hermione alone. Once her stomach finally stopped doing somersaults, Hermione collected her belongings and joined the end of the line behind Narcissa, waiting for her turn to check in. While each of her teammates received their room keys and disappeared from the reception, Oliver stayed behind to bid each of them goodnight in turn and to remind them all to be up early for training the next morning.

When Narcissa stepped up to the desk, the woman behind the desk glanced at Hermione standing behind her, and her welcoming smile turned to a frown. She looked down at her book and rapidly flicked through the pages without giving the two witches an explanation. Narcissa looked at Hermione with her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Hermione’s expression matched Narcissa’s and she shook her head, unable to understand why the receptionist looked so worried.

Finally, the receptionist clasped her hands together and looked up at the two witches before her. “I’m sorry, but it looks like there’s been a mistake. The hotel has been overbooked with fans coming to see the match,” she explained. “We only have one room left, not two.”

Hermione and Narcissa shared another look, then turned back to the receptionist in horror as realisation dawned on them. The woman held out two keys towards them, both with the same room number on them. Neither witch made a move to take them.

“Is there really nothing else available?” Narcissa practically begged her. “A broom cupboard, even?”

The receptionist furrowed her brow at Narcissa and shook her head. “Unfortunately, this is all that’s left. Again, I’m very sorry for the mixup. I would be happy to offer you both a free meal in our restaurant as compensation.”

“They’ll take it,” Oliver said firmly, giving the two witches a pointed look. “It’ll be good for you to spend some time together. Maybe it’ll help solve our team bonding issue.”

Narcissa opened her mouth, looking like she was going to protest again, but a sharp elbow digging into her side stopped her. She turned to glare at Hermione, rubbing the spot where the younger witch had elbowed her.

“We don’t really have a choice,” Hermione said quietly. “We’ll just have to suck it up. It’s only for a few nights.”

Narcissa pursed her lips unhappily, but she didn’t argue. She snatched the two keys from the receptionist’s outstretched hand and stormed past Oliver towards the stairs. Hermione muttered an apology to the woman and ran to catch up with Narcissa before she had the chance to lock her out of their room. Narcissa looked sideways at Hermione as she approached, but she handed her the second key and used hers to unlock the door. Hermione followed Narcissa inside, but failed to notice when the older witch stopped dead in the middle of the room, so she ran right into the back of her.

“What are you– Oh.” Hermione grew quiet when she saw what Narcissa was looking at. The room they had been given only had one double bed between the two of them. She looked around, hoping to find a sofa or an armchair at the very least, but there was only a desk with a rickety wooden chair that looked like it might break under so much as a strong breeze.

“This has to be a joke,” Narcissa huffed. “I’m going back down there and–”

“Black, just leave it,” Hermione sighed. “I’m not happy about this either, but we can’t go causing a scene over something like this when we already have a reputation for hating each other. It won’t do us any good and Oliver will just be pissed.”

“Granger, I can’t share a bed with you.”

“Why not? Do you honestly hate me that much that you can’t even sleep next to me? We’re both adults, Black, it doesn’t have to be weird.” Hermione paused, taking in how uncomfortable Narcissa seemed by the idea. “Or is it because I’m Muggleborn?”

“What?” Narcissa asked. “I–”

“It’s fine,” Hermione interrupted, dropping her bag next to the wall opposite the bed. “I’ll just sleep on the floor. I’m sure they have a few extra duvets lying around somewhere.”

Narcissa threw her arms up in frustration. “That’s not–”

Hermione didn’t stop to hear Narcissa out. She just turned on her heel and walked out, leaving Narcissa alone in their room. When she reached the reception, she was met by yet another face she didn’t want to see at that moment. Hermione tried to duck behind a wall, but she was too slow to react.

“Oh, Ms. Granger!” Skeeter called out. The sound of her heels clicking on the wooden flooring grew louder and Hermione closed her eyes, bracing for impact. “Ms. Granger, would you care to give a few words for The Daily Prophet?”

“I’ll give you one,” Hermione replied, stepping out from her hiding spot with the best fake smile she could muster up. “Goodbye.”

Hermione tried to sidestep the reporter, but Skeeter let out an exaggerated laugh and stuck out her arm to block the younger witch. Hermione sighed and stood back, folding her arms over her chest. She raised an eyebrow at Skeeter, waiting to hear what she would come up with this time.

“So,” Skeeter began. Her signature quill fluttered into the air along with a piece of parchment, ready to start spinning lies out of Hermione’s answers. “You and your team had a very exciting day last weekend; how does it feel to have moved on to the next round of the World Cup?”

“It’s incredible,” Hermione answered politely. “We all worked really hard to get to this point, but that’s not really what you want to ask me about, is it? Come on, Skeeter, it’s getting late and the sooner we get this over with, the better.”

“Well, if you insist.” Skeeter flipped to the next page in her notebook and cleared her throat, keeping a close eye on Hermione to catch her reactions. “What do you have to say about the fight between you and Narcissa Black during your match against Italy?”

“I wouldn’t call that a fight. We had a small disagreement, but we worked it out.” Hermione shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Teammates argue sometimes; ask any Quidditch player out there and they’ll say the same thing. Is that really something that deserves to make headlines?”

“Well, when players have the kind of history that you and Ms. Black have, it makes things a little different, doesn’t it?” Skeeter argued. “You two have been pitted against each other for, what, ten years?”

“Black and I have always played on opposite teams, but there’s no bad blood between us,” Hermione lied, hoping she was as good at acting as she was at Quidditch. “We’re professionals; we would never let a silly thing like an old school rivalry get in the way of such an important competition.”

Skeeter hummed in response, but she didn’t look convinced. “So, you’re saying you don’t hate Ms. Black?”

Hermione forced herself to laugh as if it was a silly thing to think. “Of course not!”

Skeeter grabbed her quill out of the air and snapped the notebook shut, seeming to realise she wouldn’t get anything interesting out of Hermione. “That’s not what I remember from Hogwarts,” she said. “You two were always at each other’s throats.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Skeeter. Things change; there’s nothing going on between us. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Hermione pushed past Skeeter without waiting for a response and made her way back to the receptionist’s desk. The woman greeted her with the same apologetic smile she had worn when she told her and Narcissa they would have to share a room.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Granger?”

“I was just wondering if you have any spare duvets and pillows I could use?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, of course!” The woman snapped her fingers and a house elf appeared next to her. “Dinky, would you please bring a spare duvet and a set of pillows to room 122?”

“Yes, Miss.” Dinky bowed obediently and Disapparated again.

Hermione had to bite her lip to refrain from commenting on the use of house elves within the hotel. She knew there was no point in saying anything; she had tried for long enough in Hogwarts without getting anywhere. Instead, she thanked the receptionist and returned to her and Narcissa’s room. By the time she got inside, the requested bed clothes were already sitting in a neat pile on the desk. Hermione could hear the shower running in their bathroom, explaining where Narcissa had disappeared to in the few minutes she had been gone.

Hermione set to work laying out her makeshift bed on the floor, thanking Merlin that the rooms had a soft, carpeted floor instead of the same wooden one in the reception. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it would make do for the three nights she would have to spend there. When Narcissa got out of the shower, Hermione was already in bed, facing the wall so she could avoid speaking to the older witch any more than she had to.

Hermione listened to Narcissa wandering about the room for a few minutes until she settled into bed and blew out the lamp that was burning on the nightstand, thrusting them into darkness. Hermione, as tired as she was from a day of training and travel, somehow couldn’t find the ability to fall asleep. No matter how long she lay there with her eyes closed, her mind just wouldn’t stop racing. While Narcissa’s breathing evened out not too long after she got into bed, Hermione continued to toss and turn helplessly.

Just when she was finally beginning to drift off, a noise startled Hermione, causing her eyes to fly open. She listened closely, trying to figure out what it was. Finally, when she heard it again, she realised it was coming from the bed on the other side of the room.

“Black?” Hermione asked softly, sitting up and squinting as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The thin stream of light poking through the curtains was just enough for her to see Narcissa thrashing around in the bed. The woman’s breathing grew heavier and more panicked, with a few soft whimpers escaping her lips.

“Black!” Hermione said louder, throwing her duvet aside so she could make her way to the older witch’s side. She reached out, but paused mid-air, unsure of whether she should touch Narcissa.

“No,” Narcissa mumbled, her expression turning pained. “No, please!”

Hermione didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what was going through Narcissa’s head. As the woman’s cries grew louder, she realised she had no choice but to shake Narcissa’s shoulder lightly.

“Black, wake up!”

Narcissa shot up with a gasp and gripped the hand that was on her shoulder so tightly that Hermione winced and bit back a yelp of her own. Narcissa’s eyes flitted around the room quickly while she struggled to catch her breath.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hermione whispered, moving her free hand to Narcissa’s other shoulder, stroking gently. “You’re okay.”

“What…” Narcissa swallowed thickly, looking at Hermione like she didn’t fully recognise her.

“You were having a nightmare,” Hermione explained. “But you’re okay. Just try to take some deep breaths for me, alright? Follow me.”

Hermione waited until Narcissa nodded in acknowledgment before she took a deep breath in. She let out the air just as slowly, instructing the older witch to do the same, Narcissa mimicked her shakily at first, but after a few more breaths she began to regain some control. Her grip on Hermione’s hand loosened as she became grounded in reality.

Hermione continued to stroke Narcissa’s shoulder in a slow pattern while she whispered words of encouragement to the older witch. It was only when Narcissa seemed fully settled and her hand fell away from Hermione’s that the younger witch removed her own hands, but remained seated on the edge of the bed.

Narcissa pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knee, and turned her head slightly in an effort to hide the few tears that were rolling down her cheeks. Hermione pretended not to notice as Narcissa quickly wiped them away.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hermione asked after a few minutes passed in silence. Narcissa shook her head.

“Okay. Should I go find Andromeda or Bellatrix?” she offered instead. Again, she received the same response from the older witch. “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“Would you just stop fussing? I don’t need your pity,” Narcissa snapped, then immediately looked guilty. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. “I’m sorry, I just– Now you see why I didn't want to share a bed with you.”

“You didn’t want me to see you like this,” Hermione guessed. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Black. What you went through… it was awful. It would give anybody nightmares. I certainly don‘t pity you for it. If anything, I admire you for how you’ve dealt with it all. But, with that said, you’ll always be the big, bad Narcissa Black who sort of scares me sometimes; with or without nightmares.”

That earned a small, half-hearted laugh from Narcissa. “Good,” she said, sounding a little more like herself. “We’ll still be opponents when all this is over, remember. I wouldn’t want you to think that I’ll start going easy on you or anything.”

“You, going easy on me?” Hermione scoffed. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“It’s not.” Narcissa’s shoulders finally relaxed and she leaned back against the headboard, stretching her legs out under the covers. “Thanks for… you know,” she said quietly.

Hermione waved a hand dismissively and stood up. “That’s not necessary. I’ll be over here if you need anything, okay?”

Narcissa chewed her bottom lip as she watched Hermione leave. When the younger witch was halfway across the room, she called out after her, stopping her in her tracks. “Granger, wait.”

“Yeah?” Hermione turned back to Narcissa, who wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“The floor can’t be comfortable.” Narcissa shifted sideways, making space in the bed. “And, uh, Oliver wouldn’t be too happy if you were stiff going into our next match…”

It took Hermione a second to catch up, but when Narcissa glanced at the empty spot next to her, she mouthed a silent ‘oh’. She remained frozen in place, staring at Narcissa with raised eyebrows.

“Unless you don’t want to, of course,” Narcissa added quickly.

“No, no, it’s… Yeah, I’ll… Let me just…” Hermione couldn’t seem to do much other than stammer uselessly, so she opted to shut her mouth instead.

She tentatively climbed under the duvet and laid next to Narcissa, staring up at the ceiling while she tried not to think too much about the mere centimetres of space between their shoulders. Warmth radiated off Narcissa, sending a shiver down Hermione’s spine from the stark contrast to the rest of the room. A small part of her wanted to move closer to the heat, but the rational side reminded her that that would be crazy.

Then, she felt Narcissa’s arm inching closer to her own, until their hands were just barely touching beneath the covers. Hermione looked to the side, but Narcissa’s gaze was fixed firmly on the ceiling. Hermione covered Narcissa’s hand with her own and the older witch intertwined their fingers; the action causing Hermione to forget all about the cold she felt just moments before.

The contact made Hermione’s stomach run wild with butterflies and her mind finally stopped racing with concerns about Quidditch — only now, she was filled with questions about her reaction to such a small touch from the woman she’d hated for half her life. She swallowed the lump in her throat and closed her eyes tightly, fighting to ignore the electricity running up and down her arm.

Once again, Narcissa fell asleep quickly, leaving Hermione completely alone with her thoughts for the second time that night. She knew she could just remove her hand from Narcissa’s, now that the older woman didn’t need the comfort, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to do that.

Hermione lost track of the amount of time that passed with her remaining wide awake, but she did eventually drift off to sleep after what felt like hours. This time, she slept through the night, without being woken by Narcissa.

Chapter 8

When Hermione woke in the morning, she was alone in the bed. She was glad for that, not knowing how she would face Narcissa if she had woken up to them still holding hands. Even the memory had Hermione’s face flushing and she groaned out loud, hiding behind her hands.

“Are you alright?”

Hermione jumped at the sound of Narcissa’s voice and peeked at her between her fingers. The older witch was standing at the foot of the bed, dressed in her Quidditch gear, and looking at Hermione like she’d gone crazy.

“Yes,” Hermione answered quickly. “I’m fine. What time is it?”

“Almost nine. I’m about to go downstairs for breakfast before we go to training, if you’d like to join me.”

“Oh, uh,” Hermione sat up slowly, shaking off her surprise. “Sure. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes, I just need to get dressed.”

Narcissa nodded and turned towards the door. “Of course. I’ll see you there.”

“Wait!” Hermione called out as Narcissa turned the door handle. The older witch glanced back at her and tilted her head. “I forgot to tell you; I ran into Skeeter last night. She’s probably still wandering the hotel. Just… be on the lookout.”

“Really?” Narcissa let go of the handle, her expression full of interest. “What happened?”

“She tried to ask me about our relationship.” Hermione realised the implication behind her words the second they left her mouth and her mind flashed back to the night before, making her blush again. “I– I mean, uh, she asked me about the fight, and whether we hate each other. I told her we don’t, and that we just had a professional disagreement. You know, as teammates. That shut down the whole conversation, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to get something different out of you.”

“Right. I’ll say the same thing if she asks, then. Thanks for the warning,” Narcissa said before she left the room.

Hermione sighed and collapsed back into bed, internally cursing herself. She didn’t understand what was happening; why she suddenly seemed to be incapable of interacting with Narcissa like a normal person. She especially couldn’t figure out what holding hands with the other woman had done to her the night before, or why she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She pulled a pillow over her face and let out another long groan of frustration into it.

After a few minutes, Hermione finally decided to get out of bed. She dug around in her bag, pulled out her uniform, and got dressed quickly. When she got to the hotel’s restaurant, she saw that she was the last of her teammates to arrive. Everyone was sitting together at one long table, with the only free seat being directly across from Narcissa. Thankfully, Hermione still had Ginny next to her when she joined the table.

“Good morning, Hermione,” Andromeda greeted happily. “How did you sleep?”

“I, uh–” Hermione glanced over at Narcissa, whose hand paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, as if she was expecting Hermione to tell the entire table about her nightmare. “I slept well. Though, our room is really cold, isn’t it, Black?”

“Wait, ’our’ room?” Ginny repeated, glancing back and forth between the two witches. “What do you mean?”

“There was a mix up with the rooms, so Black and I have to share,” Hermione explained with a small shrug.

The entire table fell silent as everyone turned to pay attention to Hermione’s revelation. Hermione looked back at them with her eyebrows drawn together, wondering why they were all so interested to know that. It wasn’t like they knew about the two witches sharing the same bed. Hermione shook her head, pushing that memory back down as she fought the blush creeping up her neck again.

“Salazar, I’m surprised both of you survived until breakfast,” Bellatrix commented.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Hermione said in protest. “We just checked in and went straight to bed; no harm done.”

“Not a big deal?” Ginny said, echoing Hermione’s words again. “Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?”

“Never mind that, what did you do to Hermione?” Andromeda asked, pointing her fork at Narcissa accusingly.

Narcissa threw her hands up indignantly. “Why do you assume I did something to her?”

Andromeda squinted at her sister suspiciously. “Last week you two made the headlines for hating each other, and today you seem almost friendly. It’s odd.”

“Well, I didn’t do anything,” Narcissa insisted.

“She didn’t,” Hermione agreed.

“See, even that was weird!” Ginny exclaimed. “You two never agree on anything. What happened last night?”

“Merlin, you’re all insufferable,” Narcissa groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Can we please move on from this?”

“Oh! Did anyone else get cornered by Skeeter?” Harry piped up, saving the two witches from their embarrassment. “She found me in the hallway outside our rooms. I swear she was waiting for one of us to come out; though I don’t know how she would know what rooms we were in.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her to have a staff member on her payroll,” Hermione grumbled. “She caught me at reception last night.”

Then Hermione recounted the tale of her and Skeeter’s conversation for the second time that morning while the team ate their breakfast, every one of them listening intently as she spoke. Afterwards, Harry told them of his run-in with the reporter, which wasn’t all that different from Hermione’s. It seemed that the only thing Skeeter had any interest in was proving that Hermione and Narcissa were sworn enemies.

When they finished their breakfast, the team gathered outside France’s national Quidditch stadium, where they could still hear the sounds of their opponents finishing up their own session. Oliver told them to wait outside before he went in to speak with the France’s manager, and to ensure that there were changing rooms free for them. Not too long after, they saw the French team emerging from the stadium, carrying their brooms over their shoulders.

“Ah, look,” one of them said, holding out a hand to stop the rest of his team in their tracks Hermione recognised him as the captain of the team; Louis Bardot. “Here comes the team from England; if you could even call them that.”

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked hotly.

“Well, surely you’ve been reading the newspapers, haven’t you?” Bardot asked, tilting his head. “That Skeeter woman has been saying that half of you can’t even stand to be in the same room as each other.”

“That’s true!” Another member piped up from the back, grinning widely. He had to stand on his toes to be seen behind the rest of his teammates. “I have a friend on the Italian team who says two of them had to be taken off the pitch after the match because they were fighting. It was those two, right there!”

He pointed out Narcissa and Hermione to his captain, who took a step towards the team. Bardot stopped in front of Hermione with a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes flicked downwards, taking in Hermione’s full appearance, and his smirk was replaced by a grimace. “Yes, I have heard about you. I truly don’t understand how someone like you has been chosen to represent your country.”

“Someone like me?” Hermione repeated, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Yes, a… Ah, how do they say it in England?” Bardot sighed, rubbing his forehead lightly. He turned his head towards his teammates, most of whom shrugged or shook their heads. “Come on, you know what I mean. Those people who don’t come from magical descent. Oh! Of course, that’s it — Mudblood.”

There was a brief moment in which time seemed to stand still. Nobody on either team knew how to react. Hermione was frozen, staring open-mouthed at the French captain as her brain caught up with what he had just said. Even a couple of his own teammates were shooting disapproving looks his way, shifting uncomfortably on their feet.

Finally, Hermione found her voice. “Excuse me?” she snapped, taking a step forward and crossing her arms over her chest. “How dare you—“

Hermione jumped as the English team erupted behind her, their voices merging together to create an incomprehensible wall of noise. She could just make out a handful of the various swear words and insults being thrown at the French wizard, who was totally unfazed by all of this. In fact, the smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth only heightened the anger of Hermione’s teammates.

Ron pushed his way to the front of the group, his face flushed and fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. His apparent plan of punching the wizard was interrupted as Ginny had reached him first. She was now barely a few centimetres from the French captain’s face, her finger jammed into his chest. Bellatrix and Harry both had their wands drawn, standing on either side of Hermione and Andromeda, who was squeezing the younger witch’s shoulder gently.

A few of the French players had responded by drawing their own wands defensively, but a sharp whistle cut through the noise before the shouting match could escalate to anybody throwing hexes at each other. Bellatrix and Harry quickly shoved their wands back into their robes before the French and English team managers could notice, and as Hermione turned to face them, she thought she saw Narcissa pocketing her own wand too.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on here?” Oliver asked furiously.

The English players’ voices overlapped again as they all tried to explain the situation in unison. Oliver blew his whistle again until they quieted down. He pointed towards the entrance to the stadium, too angry to speak. As the team walked inside in single file with their heads hung low, Hermione heard Oliver apologising profusely to the French team on his players’ behalf. They made their way into the changing rooms and sat in silence, waiting for their manager to return.

Oliver stormed inside and stood in front of them all with his hands on his hips, looking at each of them expectantly. “Well?” he prompted. “Is anybody going to explain what the hell that was?”

“They started it,” Ron muttered.

“I don’t care who started it,” Oliver snapped. “I care about all of you getting into another fight in public, and this time with our hosts!”

“Oliver, if you had heard what their captain said about Hermione, you’d be on our side,” Andromeda said quietly. “He called her a… A really awful word.”

Oliver looked from Andromeda to Hermione and his expression softened as the realisation set in. “I see,” he said. “Well, as much as I want to tell all of you off for this, I am glad to know you have each other’s backs. Look, I’ll talk to their manager about the issue–”

“That’s not necessary,” Hermione interrupted. Oliver looked like he was going to protest, but Hermione cut him off again. “Really, Oliver. I don’t want to make this into a bigger deal than it is. It’s just a word.”

“Okay…” Oliver was hesitant to drop the matter, but he nodded eventually. “If that’s what you’d prefer.”

“It is,” Hermione said firmly. She couldn’t imagine the French team would go easy on them if she tried to get their captain into trouble. It would be better for everyone if they just let the whole thing go.

“Alright. Well then, let’s get going. Everyone grab your brooms and head out to the pitch to warm up.”

“Hey, Granger,” Bellatrix said, catching Hermione by the shoulder before she could follow the rest of the team out to the pitch. “Are you alright?”

Hermione tilted her head, staring at the Beater for a moment, though Bellatrix wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. “Er– Yes, I’m fine, thanks. It’s not like I’ve never been called that before, you know.”

Hermione regretted the words as soon as they’d left her mouth. Bellatrix’s hand slid from the younger woman’s shoulder and she took a step backwards, giving her a short nod. “Right. Well, I just wanted to–”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione interrupted quickly. “I didn’t mean you, I just… I wasn’t thinking properly.”

“No, it’s fine.” Bellatrix cleared her throat, finally looking back at her teammate. “I realise that we’ve never really addressed how I treated you at school, but seeing as this whole thing is lasting longer than we all expected it would – assuming everything goes well this weekend, of course. Anyway, the point is, I’d rather not have this hanging over us. I want to apologise for everything; calling you that word, teasing you the way I did. You were only a child, it wasn’t fair that you had to deal with that.”

Hermione’s mind brought forth an image of a seventeen year old Bellatrix, along with the rest of her Slytherin friends, cornering eleven year old Hermione in the courtyard. She had gotten separated from Harry and Ron on the way to dinner, and the Slytherins seized the opportunity to taunt her while all the teachers were in the Great Hall. Narcissa had been there too; hovering at the back of the group while the older students took the lead. She had been fourteen at the time, and was trying to earn her status amongst Slytherin’s most elite pureblooded teenagers by joining in on their idea of fun.

Hermione could barely even remember what they had said, now that so much time had passed. She did know that the words ‘Mudblood’ and ‘filth’ had been the main topic, as it usually was. What she did remember was skipping dinner after the incident to spend the rest of the night crying in the common room. She had even written a letter to her parents, begging them to come and take her home, though Harry and Ron managed to convince her not to send it the next day.

“We don’t have to do this.” Hermione shifted uncomfortably, shoving that particular memory to the back of her mind. “It’s been a long time since we were in Hogwarts. It’s really not a big deal anymore.”

“It is to me. I just want you to know I don’t think that way anymore.” Bellatrix took a deep breath before adding, “And, I truly am sorry. I’m not asking you to forgive me or anything, but I had to tell you that.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said quietly, feeling a sting in her eyes.

“Yeah,” Bellatrix replied simply. “Well, we should probably join the rest of the team before Oliver comes to shout at us again.”

Hermione laughed at that, managing to contain her emotions. “You’re right. The poor guy’s head might explode if he has to tell us off again.”

The two witches jogged outside together, just in time to hear Oliver blowing his whistle to kick off the session. They both mounted their brooms, swiftly joining their teammates in the air before Oliver could ask them where they had been. Ginny shot Hermione a questioning look, but Hermione just shook her head and mouthed ‘I’ll tell you later’ before flying into position as Oliver threw the Quaffle into the air.

---

Hours later as the sun was beginning to set, the team were lying on the pitch, having discarded their brooms; each of them sore and struggling for air after the session. Oliver had been increasing the intensity of his training plan steadily over the course of the last few weeks, and that day had reached a new level. As they recovered, he continued to ramble on about different strategies for their upcoming match, but none of the players were paying attention to his words. Once he realised this, he finally gave up on trying to get through to them.

“Go and pack your things,” he told them, sounding amused by the state they were in. “We’ll discuss it further tomorrow.”

Hermione struggled to make it to her feet without collapsing back onto the ground, but she managed to steady herself just enough to stagger to the changing rooms with the rest of her team. Nobody spoke while they collected their belongings and left the stadium; they were all too tired to even think about talking. It was only after they had made it a few minutes down the road that Hermione cursed out loud, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Shit!”

“Hermione, are you okay?” Oliver asked, stopping the team in their tracks.

“I left my broom on the pitch,” Hermione admitted sheepishly. “I forgot to pick it up when we left. I have to go back and get it. You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up with you.”

“Are you sure? I’ll come with you,” Ginny offered.

Hermione waved her off as she turned around. “No, honestly, it’s fine. Go on, I won’t be long.”

It took Hermione longer to return to the stadium on her weary legs, and by the time she reached the pitch, it was completely dark out. She spent longer than she would’ve liked to admit searching blindly for her broomstick before remembering that she was a witch and pulled out her wand to give her some light. Finally, she found the Firebolt that she had abandoned near the goalposts and hooked it over her shoulder.

Hermione didn’t make it too far from the stadium this time. Almost immediately after she stepped outside, she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that someone was watching her. She glanced around, still using her wand as a light, but she couldn’t see anybody nearby. Shrugging it off as a trick of her exhausted mind, Hermione kept walking, but quickened her pace all the same.

In her increasingly panicked state of mind, she took a wrong turn and ended up in an even darker alley that made her skin crawl the same way Knockturn Alley did; only this street wasn’t even occupied by any shops. There were no people around either, which did little to ease Hermione’s nerves. She turned around, eager to get back to a well-lit area, and came face to face with a man she recognised from that morning.

“Bardot,” she gasped, unable to decide whether she was glad to see this familiar face in particular. “Merlin, you scared me.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Bardot hissed, taking a step closer to Hermione.

Hermione moved backwards, putting some distance between them again. “I know, I seem to have gotten a bit turned around trying to get back to my hotel. I was just leaving.”

She tried to get around the man, but he blocked her path. Alarm bells sounded in Hermione’s head and regret from going off on her own crept in. She glanced around, searching for another way to escape, but Bardot was standing in the way of her only exit.

“No, you shouldn’t be here,” he emphasized. “Your kind aren’t welcome around here.”

Hermione tried again to sidestep him, but this time he responded by shoving her hard. She stumbled backwards, twisting her ankle sharply, and collapsed in a heap on the ground. Her wand flew out of her hand, rolling to a stop at Bardot’s feet. He smirked and picked it up, twirling it around in his hand.

“That’s more like it,” he chuckled, inspecting the wand closely. “Such a pretty wand, tainted by your filth. What a shame.”

“Give that back,” Hermione spat. She tried to stand, but her ankle wouldn’t allow it.

“Or what?” Bardot taunted. “What are you going to do? You’re all alone and you have no wand. You’re nothing. Just a helpless Mudblood.”

The next thing Hermione felt was the man’s foot colliding with her stomach and she doubled over with a groan. Then it came again, and again, until she could barely breathe. Dark spots danced in her vision but she gritted her teeth, willing herself not to pass out before she could figure out a plan to get herself to safety.

“Stupefy!”

Hermione flinched, bracing herself for the impact of the spell. Nothing happened.

She cracked one eye open, just in time to see Bardot’s body hitting the ground. Both his wand and Hermione’s fell from his grip and clattered against the pavement, the noise echoing down the alley. Then she heard footsteps and instinctively tried to scramble in the opposite direction, fearing that Bardot had brought friends with him.

Thankfully, it was Narcissa who emerged from the shadows, nudging the wizard with her foot as if to check that he was really knocked out. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, catching the attention of her teammate, who rushed to her side and crouched next to her.

“Hermione! Are you hurt?” Narcissa asked, her hand hovering close to where Hermione was clutching her own side.

“Couple of broken ribs, I think,” Hermione said. She picked up her wand and pushed herself off the ground, hissing when she felt a sharp pain in her leg. Leaning against the wall for support, she added, “Maybe a sprained ankle too.”

“Oh, Salazar,” Narcissa muttered, still not quite touching Hermione, but her hands remained close in case the younger witch fell. “I’ve never seen the likes of it. I understand being competitive, but blatantly attacking an opponent? It’s unheard of!”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say there’s more to it than Quidditch,” Hermione huffed.

Narcissa hummed in agreement, narrowing her eyes at the unconscious wizard. “I can heal your injuries, but I think it would be best if we went back to the hotel first. I can work better in the light. And, I don’t know about you but I’d rather not be here when he wakes up. Can you walk?”

Hermione nodded, but her ankle almost gave out beneath her on the first step she took, almost sending her straight back to the ground. Narcissa clicked her tongue and encouraged Hermione to wrap her arm around her shoulders, taking most of her weight off her foot. Hermione shivered involuntarily when she felt Narcissa’s hand come to rest on her waist.

“Sorry,” Hermione muttered, feeling her cheeks growing hot under Narcissa’s questioning gaze. “It’s freezing out here and you’re really warm. Can’t we just Apparate?”

Narcissa shook her head. “It’s too risky with your injuries. Come on, it’s not that far.”

The walk back to the hotel was slow, given Hermione’s injuries. Even with Narcissa’s support, she could only limp a couple of steps at a time before losing her breath. She silently cursed Oliver’s training regimen for taking up all of her stamina that she so desperately needed at that moment.

“You called me by my name,” Hermione said, breaking the silence in an attempt to distract herself from the pain.

“Pardon?” Narcissa looked at her with a confused expression.

“When you found me, you called me Hermione. You’ve never done that before. It was almost like we were friends,” Hermione joked lightly.

“I’m sure you misheard me,” Narcissa denied, but Hermione could see a small, amused smile on her face even in the darkness. “It must’ve been the wind.”

“Right,” Hermione drawled. “Of course, that was it.”

A few more minutes passed without either witch speaking, until Hermione spoke up again, voicing the question that had been playing on her mind since Narcissa showed up.

“How did you find me?”

Narcissa glanced at Hermione for a beat before answering. “You were gone far longer than it should’ve taken you to just get your broom. I was coming to see if you were alright, and then I heard your voice. I heard what he called you and then… Everything afterwards.”

“You came looking for me?” Hermione asked, her voice small.

“Anyone would have.” Narcissa shrugged, trying to play it off like it was nothing.

“Yes, but you actually did,” Hermione pointed out. When Narcissa stayed quiet, she added, “Thank you.”

Narcissa cleared her throat and pointed out a familiar building. “We’re here,” she said, changing the subject quickly.

Narcissa helped Hermione through the reception, which was thankfully empty. The last thing either of them wanted was for fans or, Merlin forbid, Skeeter to see them like this. The reporter would probably try to spin some tale of Narcissa attacking Hermione right there in the hotel. They made it to the lift without interruption, and finally to their room.

Narcissa led Hermione to the bed, then moved the chair from the desk over so she could work on the younger witch’s injuries. She rolled up Hermione’s Quidditch trousers, just past her ankle so she could see the damage done by the French wizard.

Hermione lay back, propping herself up against the pillows so she could watch Narcissa work. The older woman’s face was full of concentration, with her brow furrowed and her lips drawn into a thin line. Hermione’s mind drifted back to the memory that had resurfaced earlier during her talk with Bellatrix and almost laughed out loud at the stark contrast between that Narcissa and the one sitting next to her now. If someone had told her all those years ago that her greatest enemy would one day be healing her injuries while she lay in a bed that they shared, she never would’ve believed them. The idea was completely ridiculous, and yet here they were.

Hermione didn’t realise she had been staring at Narcissa the whole time until the older woman spoke.

“Granger, I can practically hear your thoughts without even trying to right now.”

“Without trying… Wait a second!” Realisation dawned on Hermione and she sat up quickly, grunting at the stabbing pain in her ribs. Narcissa raised a disapproving eyebrow at her, pausing mid-spell. “Are you a Legilimens?”

Narcissa hesitated for a moment before answering. “Yes, I am. And no, I haven’t been listening to your thoughts without your knowledge or permission.”

“Oh, no, I– I didn’t think you were doing that,” Hermione said, her brow furrowing. “Is that something you get accused of often?”

Narcissa sighed and pushed Hermione’s shoulder gently until she was lying down again. Raising her wand, she cast the healing spell again before finally answering the question. “Not so much anymore. It was harder to control it when I was younger, and I couldn’t always tell the difference between people’s thoughts and their spoken word. It only took a couple of slip-ups to earn myself a reputation amongst my classmates”

“That must have been awful.” Hermione watched Narcissa’s face as she examined her now fully healed leg, but the older witch remained expressionless.

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it, given how quickly rumours spread at Hogwarts,” Narcissa commented, shifting her position so she could move on to Hermione’s remaining injuries.

“Well, we were never really part of the same social circles.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Narcissa hummed. “Look, I know we’ve never exactly been friends…”

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” Hermione commented, a small smirk forming on her lips. “The Daily Prophet seems to think we’re out for each other's blood.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes, but she looked amused. “Yes, I believe the word Skeeter used was ‘arch-enemies’. If you ask me, ‘rivals’ would have been sufficient, but she always did have a flair for the dramatics.” She sighed then and lowered her wand, becoming serious again. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that whether we like it or not, and as much as I’ve tried to deny it, we are on the same team now. I think we ought to leave our previous feelings for each other behind for now. After all, we’re working towards the same goal for once and we’ll never get there if we keep going the way we are now.”

Hermione sat up slowly, careful not to further aggravate her broken ribs. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I do agree with you, but haven’t we already tried that? We just keep slipping back into old habits.”

“I know.” Narcissa nodded solemnly. She looked away from Hermione and her fingers started to pick at the splinters in the chair, the same way she had done in the changing rooms right before their first match. “I’m to blame for that. It… hasn’t been easy to accept a new team since losing my old one. It all happened so fast, and I still think about that day a lot, obviously.”

Hermione’s heart felt heavy in her chest as she pictured Narcissa in the midst of her nightmare the previous night. Unsure of how to comfort the older witch, she reached over to squeeze her arm gently. “I understand that. We all do. It’s not all your fault though, I haven’t exactly made things easy either. You were right at the Italy game; I’ve been a total mess since we started this. I think… I think I was so focused on trying to live up to you that I forgot how to play properly.”

Narcissa scoffed at that. “You never had to try so hard, Granger,” she said quietly.

“Really?” Hermione teased. “Are you actually suggesting that I might be as good as you, Black?”

“Yes,” Narcissa replied without hesitation, rendering Hermione speechless. She never thought she would hear Narcissa admit that. Narcissa looked down at Hermione’s hand on her for a moment before clearing her throat and sliding her arm away. “Do you know why I hated you in school?”

Hermione shook her head, her brow furrowing at the sudden change of topic. “I always assumed it was because I’m Muggleborn, since that was the reason for Bellatrix.”

“What? No.” Narcissa seemed genuinely disgusted by the suggestion, coming as yet another shock to Hermione. “Although, I suppose I thought that was the reason too. Maybe it even was, at first, but that changed.”

“When Andy was kicked out, right?” Hermione blurted out.

Narcissa finally met her eyes again and nodded, looking surprised by Hermione’s knowledge of that incident. “She told you about that?”

“At the engagement party,” Hermione confirmed. She felt as though she had intruded on Narcissa’s privacy just by knowing that part of her history, but the other witch didn’t seem too bothered. “So, if it wasn’t because of that, then what was the reason?”

Narcissa was slow to respond. Hermione waited patiently, watching as Narcissa struggled to find the right words. She almost looked scared to say whatever it was out loud. A minute passed before Narcissa spoke up again, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I was jealous.”

Hermione almost laughed, but her smile faltered when she realised Narcissa wasn’t joking. “You were jealous? Of me?” She raised a hand to her head, searching for any sign of an injury that she missed before. It was the only thing that could explain Narcissa uttering those words. When she found no indications of a serious head trauma, she let her hand fall back to her side. “Why?”

”Because you were always as good as me,” Narcissa said through gritted teeth. “Even though you were Muggleborn.”

“So,,, it was because of that?” Hermione questioned, tilting her head in confusion.

“No! Well, yes, I suppose… Ugh!” Narcissa buried her head in her hands and let out a deep sigh. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before looking back up at Hermione. “I’m the youngest in our family, so I spent my entire childhood being compared to my sisters. Everything I did was never good enough because Andy or Bella had already done it first. Then, when I was old enough to get my first broomstick, I finally discovered something I was better than them at – not by much, mind you, but still. I spent years practising in every position so I could be sure to make the house team once I reached Hogwarts.”

Hermione nodded, listening intently while Narcissa spoke. She even managed to forget about the dull ache in her chest that the older witch had yet to heal, having become so caught up in telling Hermione her story that she discarded her wand altogether.

“I made the team, obviously, and for a few years I was the best Hogwarts had to offer. Then you came along,” Narcissa continued, laughing softly. Hermione couldn’t tell if it was out of amusement or spite. “Even at twelve years old, without having ever touched a broom before coming to Hogwarts, you had no problem keeping up with me. So, yes, I was jealous.”

“That’s crazy,” Hermione said, earning a mildly annoyed look from Narcissa that made her backtrack quickly. “Sorry, I just meant… I was always jealous of you. I find it hard to believe after all this time that you once felt the same way about me.”

“It appears we have more in common than we thought,” Narcissa drawled.

“It seems we do,” Hermione agreed with a laugh. The sudden movement agitated her ribs again and she hissed, doubling over from the pain.

“Salazar,” Narcissa grabbed Hermione’s shoulders to keep her steady. “Sorry, I was so caught up in talking I forgot the reason we’re here.”

“No problem,” Hermione coughed out. “But, if we could get this last part over with, it would be great.”

“Right, of course. It’s just…” Narcissa trailed off, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

Hermione tilted her head, waiting for Narcissa to continue. “What?”

“I need you to take off your shirt,” Narcissa rushed out.

“Merlin, you could at least buy me dinner first,” Hermione chuckled in an awkward attempt to clear the tension. It didn’t work.

She hesitated for a moment, fiddling with the hem of her jersey, before realising she didn’t have much of a choice. Slowly, she began to pull her shirt up, but she only made it about halfway before her ribs protested and she couldn’t lift her arms any further.

Narcissa watched Hermione struggle for another second before she took pity on the younger woman and reached out towards her. “May I?” she asked.

“Please,” Hermione sighed in defeat, letting her shirt fall back into place.

Narcissa cleared her throat nervously and reached for the bottom of Hermione’s shirt, pausing to silently ask Hermione for permission to continue. With Hermione’s nod of affirmation, she lifted the garment up, careful not to do any further damage to the younger woman’s ribs.

Hermione felt Narcissa’s knuckles brush against her stomach and her muscles tensed. Narcissa, assuming Hermione’s reaction was out of pain, muttered an apology and continued at an achingly slow pace. Finally, the jersey was off, leaving Hermione in just a sports bra, and Narcissa instructed her to lie back on the bed. Hermione did as she was told, keeping her eyes firmly trained at the ceiling to avoid making eye contact with Narcissa while she was in such a position. A moment later, she felt a warm hand resting on her ribs, lightly pressing down in different places.

“Does that hurt?” Narcissa asked softly.

“Huh?” Hermione blinked a few times, coming back to the present. She had been too focused on the heat spreading through her from Narcissa’s touch that she didn’t even notice the pain. Narcissa pressed down again, yielding a hiss from Hermione. “Yeah, that one definitely did.”

“Sorry,” Narcissa mumbled. She aimed her wand at Hermione again. “I’m almost finished.”

Hermione nodded and closed her eyes tight as her chest began to burn uncomfortably from the feeling of her bones mending under Narcissa’s spell. Just as quick as it started, the sensation wore off, and Hermione raised her head to look at Narcissa, who sat back and slipped her wand into her pocket.

“All done,” Narcissa said. “How do you feel?”

Hermione sat up slowly and twisted around, stretching out her body which was now pain-free. “Amazing,” she sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

No response came from Narcissa, and she wasn’t looking at Hermione anymore, but there was a slight blush painting her cheeks that made Hermione suddenly remember that she wasn’t wearing a top. She quickly grabbed her jersey and threw it over herself, muttering an apology to the older witch that was waved off.

Hermione fell back against the mattress and breathed out heavily, her exhaustion returning in full force after the adrenaline had worn off. She felt the bed dip next to her, but she couldn’t even open her eyes to look at Narcissa. Instead, she blindly felt around the mattress until she found Narcissa’s hand and squeezed it.

“Thanks again, you know, for saving me.”

A softly whispered “of course” was the last thing Hermione heard before she faded into a deep sleep.

Chapter 9

The second time the team stepped out onto the pitch to face their opponents in a real match was almost more nerve wracking than the first. The tension in the air was so thick, Hermione was sure the fans would be able to feel it even from the highest point in the stadium. Of course, most of her teammates didn’t know the real reason for the dirty looks being exchanged between the two sets of players. That knowledge was strictly reserved for Hermione and Narcissa.

Naricssa had wanted to tell Oliver what happened first thing that morning, insisting they should get the authorities involved, but Hermione refused. She just wanted to forget the whole thing ever happened and focus on the match; the sooner it was over, the sooner they could get far away from the wizard who had attacked her the night before.

Bardot chose to stand directly opposite Hermione, wearing the same smirk he wore the previous night. It might have made Hermione cower in fear, if it weren’t for the fact that Narcissa had placed herself right beside the younger witch and was training her signature ice cold glare on the man. Hermione always hated that look, but somehow it didn’t seem that bad anymore, now that it was being used in her favour.

The way her and Narcissa’s shoulders were touching also had a strange calming effect on Hermione’s nerves, but she chose to ignore that detail for the moment. She had more important things to focus on than trying to figure out why every little touch from Narcissa sent sparks through her entire body. There was also a big part of her that never wanted to find out.

Hermione shook those thoughts out of her head and mounted her broom, then kicked off the ground and rose into the air. Her eyes kept flicking between the Quaffle in the referee’s hands, and Bardot, who was swinging his Beater’s bat back and forth tauntingly.

“Of course he’s a bloody Beater,” Hermione muttered. “How fitting.”

Hermione jumped when she heard Narcissa’s voice in her mind, instead of her replying out loud. “He’s not getting anywhere near you. We’re all going to make sure of that.”

Hermione wasn’t sure how to respond, but she closed her eyes and tried to imagine her thoughts being projected into Narcissa’s head. “I’m not afraid of him,” she replied defensively, but the way Bardot’s eyes were already scanning the pitch in search of Bludgers made her stomach twist.

“I know that.” Narcissa glanced at Hermione for a few seconds before turning her head back down towards the referee. “I wasn’t trying to suggest that you were. All I meant is that if he chooses to target you because of what happened yesterday, we’ll have your back.”

“And if he chooses to target you?” Hermione asked. “After all, it was you who knocked him out.”

Narcissa shrugged like she couldn’t care less about the idea. “Then I know you’ll have my back too.”

She almost looked like she was hoping Bardot would try it, just so she could have a reason to destroy him in front of a live audience. Hermione felt like reminding Narcissa that they didn’t have their wands on the pitch, but something told her Narcissa wouldn’t even need one.

The referee finally blew his whistle and threw the Quaffle into the air, signalling the start of the match, and the start of England’s plan. While France’s players spread out around the pitch to allow one of their Chasers to go for the Quaffle, Hermione and Ginny both flew in together and intentionally crashed, so that neither of them succeeded. Hermione heard the French Chaser snort at them, shaking his head as he flew past. Hermione saw Ginny trying to stifle her laughter, and bit back a grin of her own.

“Granger, what are you doing?” Andromeda asked, making sure her voice was loud enough for their opponents to hear. “You were supposed to let Weasley get the Quaffle first!”

“Yeah, Hermione,” Ginny added sarcastically.

“Sorry, Andy,” Hermione replied, hanging her head in mock shame.

Hermione and Ginny followed the Chaser to the goals, where Ron was waiting to execute the next step of the plan. When Bernard took aim for the middle goal, Ron purposefully went the other way, letting him score. Even though it was intentional, it still pained Hermione to hear the commentator announce France’s ten points, but she knew it was a necessary sacrifice. Hopefully, it would be worth it in the end.

Ron passed the Quaffle to Narcissa, who turned towards the other end of the pitch with two Chasers on her tail. Bellatrix smacked a Bludger in their direction, but it went wide and the Chasers flew on, unharmed. Narcissa looped back around the French players and passed the ball to Hermione, who sped past them and made it to the goals. She felt someone closing in on her from behind and looked around, just in time to duck under the Bludger that was hurtling towards her.

With her heart in her throat, Hermione came back up to find a very annoyed looking Bardot hovering nearby. Hermione made a mental note to thank Oliver for making them train blindfolded that time, giving her a better awareness of her surroundings. But then, while she was distracted by the Beater, another Chaser managed to sneak up on her and steal the Quaffle. Her original idea had been to miss the goal, but that worked out just as well. The smirk Bardot gave Hermione made her want to forget all about their plan and start playing properly, but a voice in her head stopped her.

“Not yet.”

Hermione looked around and found Narcissa watching her from nearby. Or, maybe she was glaring at Bardot. Hermione couldn’t be sure with the distance between them.

“Just wait,” Narcissa continued speaking in Hermione’s mind. “He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

Hermione sighed and nodded at the woman across the pitch, then followed her lead as she flew after the Quaffle again. Bardot stayed close to Hermione the whole time, but she felt Andromeda and Bellatrix watching over her too, ready to jump in if needed. The constant attention was making Hermione nervous, like she was the bomb that could go off at any minute, rather than Bardot.

Ron ‘failed’ to save another goal and Narcissa pretended to berate him over it, while the French Chasers snickered amongst themselves as they watched the scene unfold. Hermione was just close enough that she could hear their conversation easily.

“How did they even make it this far when they play like that?” Bernard whispered. “I’m starting to wonder why Bardot even told us to give it our all.”

“I have no clue,” Levesque replied through her giggles. “But it will be easy if they continue this way. They’ll probably be too busy fighting each other to even notice that we’re winning until it’s too late!”

Hermione breathed out a sigh of relief. They still had a long way to go, but at least she knew that her idea wasn’t completely terrible after all. Narcissa tilted her head at Hermione, her eyes flicking towards the French players with a silent question.

Hermione smirked and projected her thoughts towards Narcissa again. “They’re starting to believe our act. I say we let them get a few more goals in and then turn things around.”

“Good. I’ll let the others know.” Narcissa replied. Hermione still couldn’t get used to the feeling of hearing Narcissa’s voice directly inside her head. It felt strangely… intimate?

Hermione felt heat rise to her cheeks and hoped she hadn’t accidentally sent that thought into Narcissa’s mind too. She wasn’t sure how it worked exactly, but if she was somehow allowing Narcissa to hear her thoughts without meaning to, she would certainly be in trouble. Maybe she could ask her more about her ability after the match, now that they seemed to be on better terms.

When the score reached 60-0, Hermione finally noticed the French players starting to relax. Any time England had the Quaffle, France followed at a slow pace, knowing they wouldn’t make the shot anyway. Even the Beaters were saving their energy by not attacking the Chasers with Bludgers, since it wasn’t necessary to keep England from scoring anymore. Even Oliver was doing a convincing job of looking defeated on the sidelines.

France didn’t know what hit them when England dropped their act. The first time Hermione scored, she made it look like it was just a lucky shot and forced herself to appear shocked when the Quaffle soared through the hoops. The Keeper rolled her eyes at Hermione’s display and kicked the Quaffle back to Bernard without giving the goal a second thought. As soon as Bernard caught it, it was knocked right out of his hands by Andromeda’s Bludger. Before he could figure out what happened, Narcissa grabbed the Quaffle and scored again. The second time the Keeper threw the Quaffle back onto the pitch, Ginny intercepted the pass and kicked it straight back into the goal, leaving no time for the Keeper to try and stop it.

The Keeper, now growing frustrated, shouted something to her teammates in French. The Chasers snapped out of their daze and each of them moved to defend one of the English Chasers. Levesque shoved Hermione out of the way and caught the Quaffle, flying off at a faster pace than usual. Hermione regained control of her broom and followed her, along with Ginny, while Narcissa sped up to get ahead of her and turned back around. After a short nod from Narcissa, Hermione and Ginny closed in on Levesque from either side, trapping her so that Narcissa could steal the Quaffle. Narcissa dodged the remaining two Chasers and kicked the Quaffle, scoring another ten points easily.

“Would you look at that?” the commentator exclaimed, her voice full of amazement. “Within minutes, England has managed to bring the score to 60-40! Nobody knows where this sudden change has come from in England’s attitude, but it’s not looking good for France.”

Hermione saw Bardot slam his bat into the palm of his hand and swore she heard an actual growl come out of his mouth that made her shudder. She backed further away from him, not wanting to be anywhere close to him when his anger reached its peak. She felt Narcissa watching her again with concern and shot her a reassuring smile.

“I’m fine,” Hermione told Narcissa silently. “You don’t have to keep checking on me. I seriously doubt he’s going to do anything in front of this many people.”

Hermione heard Narcissa’s hum of disbelief echo in her mind. “He’s planning something, but I can’t figure out what. Just… watch your back.”

“You too.”

Hermione and Narcissa’s conversation came to a stop when Bernard got possession of the Quaffle and they had to focus on the match again. Hermione flew off to pursue Bernard while Narcissa stayed behind to defend one of the other Chasers, but soon enough she felt another presence behind her, getting closer by the second. Hermione glanced over her shoulder to find Bardot speeding after her, looking ready to kill.

Hermione picked up speed and managed to tackle Bernard for the Quaffle, changing directions just as quickly. Moments later, she heard the sound of Bardot’s bat colliding with a Bludger and ducked, but she didn’t see anything pass by her. Confused, Hermione looked around in search of the Bludger.

Then, she heard another crack that made her stomach drop, and she immediately knew it was the sound of a bone breaking. Hermione spun around, just in time to watch Narcissa falling backwards off her broom. Her entire body ran cold and the Quaffle slipped from her hands, but Hermione hardly even noticed.

She distantly heard the referee casting Arresto Momentum to slow Narcissa’s fall and saw her lying on the ground, but she couldn’t tell if the older witch was moving.

“That looked bad,” Andromeda said nervously, pulling up next to Hermione. “Do you think it’s bad? Is she conscious?”

Hermione didn’t respond. Without thinking, she snatched Andromeda’s bat right out of her hand and launched the Bludger back towards Bardot. He was too busy laughing with his teammates to notice the ball speeding towards him until it was too late. It hit him square in the face and his nose exploded. He clutched his face with both hands and spun around wildly, trying to find his attacker. His eyes landed on Hermione, still holding the bat that clearly didn’t belong to her, and his shock turned to anger.

Hermione didn’t wait around to see how he would react. She flew towards the ground and discarded her broom and Andromeda’s bat, racing to Narcissa’s side. Relief rushed through her when she saw that Narcissa was awake and there was already a medic at her side, checking her over. Hermione dropped to her knees and rested her hand on Narcissa’s shoulder, making her turn her head to look up at the younger witch with a smile.

The first thing she said to Hermione was, “You called me Narcissa.”

“What?” Hermione asked, her brow furrowing.

“You called me by my first name,” Narcissa repeated, laughing softly. “Almost like we were friends.”

Hermione shook her head and scoffed weakly. “I don’t know what you mean. That was… Ron, obviously. He was very worried about you.”

“Ah, of course. My mistake,” Narcissa said dryly. “You two do sound rather similar.”

“Oh, shut up,” Hermione giggled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Although, your hand is on my dislocated shoulder,” Narcissa answered, fighting to hide the pain in her voice.

“Shit!” Hermione gasped, pulling her hand away quickly. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Narcissa shrugged her uninjured shoulder and looked away from Hermione, blushing slightly. Before she could respond, the rest of the team huddled around the two witches, trying to see if Narcissa was okay. Hermione stood back, making room for Bellatrix and Andromeda to check on their sister.

“Bloody hell, ‘Mione, that was brilliant!” Ginny gushed, thumping Hermione on the back. “Hitting Bardot with that Bludger? Absolutely fantastic. His nose is pumping like a fountain, definitely broken if you ask me.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “He’s seriously pissed, though. You might want to watch out for him the rest of the game.”

“You did what?” Narcissa gasped, shooting up into a seated position and clutching her shoulder with a grimace. “What were you thinking?”

Hermione rubbed the back of her neck, feeling her cheeks heating up under Narcissa’s gaze. “He deserved it. His play on you was completely uncalled for. And I sort of owed you one.”

“Granger…” Narcissa trailed off, looking up at the younger witch in awe. The rest of the team watched the interaction silently, shooting each other questioning glances.

“Granger!”

Everyone turned to see the referee storming across the pitch towards them. “What was that? You can’t attack another player like that for no reason!”

“He attacked first!” Hermione argued, gesturing towards Narcissa. “She didn’t even have the Quaffle.”

“He says it was an accident,” the referee said. “That he was aiming for you and missed.”

“A likely story,” Hermione scoffed.

“Is there a reason you think Bardot would intentionally cause harm to Black?” the referee questioned, putting his hands on his hips.

Hermione glanced at Narcissa, but both of them stayed quiet. The referee pinched the bridge of his nose, looking frustrated. “I swear, in all my life, I’ve never seen such a thing from a Chaser. I have half a mind to take you off the pitch for that move, but seeing as you have no substitutes, I can’t. France will be awarded a penalty, but if you pull anything like that again, I’ll have you off the pitch, with or without a substitute. Understood?”

“Yes,” Hermione muttered through gritted teeth.

The referee nodded in satisfaction and left them alone. As soon as he was out of earshot, Hermione’s teammates burst into a fit of giggles. Hermione was slow to join in, but soon enough they were all howling with laughter, not even caring about the audience watching them.

“Salazar, Hermione!” Andromeda gasped, wiping a tear from her eye. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a referee get that mad at anyone before.”

Hermione covered her face with her hands, her shoulders still shaking with laughter. “What have I done?” she groaned as her brain finally caught up with the last few minutes. “Skeeter’s going to make me out to be an absolute madwoman after this.”

“I… don’t even know what to say,” Oliver chimed in, shaking his head.

“Just be glad they’re not fighting each other this time,” Bellatrix teased, throwing her arm around Oliver’s shoulders. “Looks like forcing them to share a room paid off.”

“Just… Get back on the pitch, you lot,” Oliver sighed, gesturing behind him. “Before you force me into early retirement.”

Hermione grabbed her discarded equipment and returned Andromeda’s bat with an apologetic grin. Andromeda took it and squeezed Hermione’s arm in a silent gesture of thanks, then the pair ran off to join their teammates.

When they were back in the air, the referee instructed everyone but Levesque, who had been nominated to take the penalty on Bardot’s behalf, to wait behind the halfway line on the pitch. Andromeda forced Hermione and Narcissa to keep as far away from Bardot as they could, while the man in question glared at them, looking angrier than ever.

“I reckon this will put a spanner in the works, don’t you?” Hermione thought.

Narcissa looked at her with a blank expression. “What on earth is a ‘spanner’?”, was all she got in response.

Hermione pressed her lips together to keep herself from laughing out loud. “It’s a Muggle thing, sorry. A spanner is a sort of tool…” She shook her head, realising it didn’t really matter. “Basically, it just means our plan isn’t going to work anymore. Because of me, France will probably go back to playing at the top of their game.”

“It’s worth it to see that awful man get what he deserves, though I’m not sure a broken nose quite makes up for what he did to you.”

“And you,” Hermione reminded her. “Merlin, what a strange bonding experience this has been.”

She heard Narcissa laugh inside her head, followed by a soft “Indeed.” in response, startling her a little. That last part wasn’t meant for Narcissa to hear, but Hermione didn’t quite know how to stop projecting her thoughts while they were mid-conversation.

“I can teach you,” Narcissa offered, making Hermione jump again and start to wonder if Narcissa could hear everything going on in her brain. “Sorry. I know that part wasn’t meant for me either, but I can, if you’d like. And, yes, I could hear everything if I really wanted to, but I do try not to listen to things I’m not supposed to. Sometimes things slip without either party meaning for it to happen, though. Especially when one isn’t trained in Occlumency.”

“Uh…” Hermione struggled to come up with a response to that. The idea that Narcissa might be able to read all of her thoughts made her nervous. Then she remembered what Narcissa had told her about her classmates accusing her of doing just that, and her chest felt heavy with guilt. She wasn’t acting any different from them. “That would be nice, actually. If you wouldn’t mind, of course.”

“Of course,” Narcissa echoed. “Perhaps when this is all over?”

Hermione nodded in lieu of a response, verbal or otherwise, and gulped. The thought of spending time with Narcissa after the World Cup, when they didn’t actually have to, filled her with… Nerves? Excitement? She was finding it increasingly difficult to tell the difference between the two when she was around Narcissa.

Hermione brought her focus back to the match and saw that Ron had managed to save the penalty, keeping the score at 60-40. Hermione, Narcissa, and Ginny raced forward, eager to reach the goals before the rest of the French Chasers. Ron kicked the Quaffle hard enough for it to meet them halfway, and Narcissa caught it with ease. She dived down underneath the opposing Chasers, and whizzed past them towards their goals, managing to score before they could turn around to follow her.

Levesque collected the Quaffle from the Keeper, and as Hermione closed in on her, preparing to tackle, she felt her broom slowing down. Frowning, she tried to lean forward, but it was no use. Then, she looked behind her and realised she wasn’t moving because Bernard was gripping the tail of her broom, pulling her backwards.

The referee blew his whistle sharply. “Penalty for England!” he shouted.

“So, we’re playing dirty now, are we?” Hermione scoffed.

“Seems only fitting for a Mudblood like you,” Bernard hissed back. “You brought this on yourself by attacking our captain.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and took the Quaffle from Levesque, who was reluctant to hand it over, then took her place in the centre of the pitch. She took a deep breath, looking out at the clear run she had towards the goals. The only opponent she had to worry about was the Keeper. She closed her eyes, trying to keep herself calm as she waited for the referee to blow his whistle again.

Finally, she heard the sound of the whistle piercing through the silence in the stadium and opened her eyes, letting out another slow breath. She leaned forward, flying towards the goals at a moderate pace. Her eyes flicked between her three options, trying to decide which would be best.

The Keeper was watching her just as intently, clearly trying to read Hermione’s moves. Hermione flew faster and drifted towards the left side of the pitch, raising the Quaffle to take aim. As soon as she saw the Keeper following her, she rolled to the right and launched the Quaffle as fast as she could.

“Granger scores the penalty!” the commentator cried, her voice muffled somewhat by the cheering in the stands. “That makes it 60-50. The game is still in France’s favour, but it might not be for much longer!”

Hermione only got a few seconds to celebrate before Levesque managed to catch the Quaffle, and then the chase was back on. The French Chaser managed to evade all of England’s defences across the pitch and scored easily, bringing a swift end to England’s streak.

Ron kicked the Quaffle towards Hermione, but Bernard swooped in at the last second and grabbed it before Hermione could. Ginny, trying to stop him from getting the Quaffle, ended up crashing into him and sending them both into a tumble.

The referee’s whistle blew again. “Penalty to France.”

“What?” Ginny practically screeched, throwing her hands up in the air. “What for?”

“Intentionally colliding with another player,” the referee explained.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Ginny huffed. “It was an accident!”

“Do you want to make it another penalty for arguing sith my call?” the referee threatened, causing Ginny to shut her mouth immediately.

The rest of the match continued in a similar manner. With both teams growing frustrated with the other over the incident between Narcissa and Bardot, the number of penalties awarded to each team rose steadily.

After Ginny fouled Bernard, he responded a few minutes later by jamming his elbow into her eye to make her drop the Quaffle. Bellatrix then fired a Bludger in his direction, but since he had already passed the Quaffle to his teammate, it was deemed to be an unnecessary attack. Both teams were given a penalty. Ginny scored theirs, while Ron managed to save France’s.

Then, two of the French Chasers pinned Ron in between them, allowing Levesque to score a goal. The referee, looking like he was growing tired of both teams’ antics, reluctantly gave England another penalty, but Narcissa missed the shot.

The two teams stayed relatively close in points over the next two hours, with all of the players losing energy as the match went on. Eventually, they were all too exhausted to keep up with the dirty tricks, so the intensity of the match died back down to a normal level.

Hermione almost thought it was her mind playing tricks on her when she saw a flicker of gold pass by her. She squeezed her eyes shut and blinked a few times, and there it was. Hovering right in front of her face; the Golden Snitch. Hermione’s jaw dropped and she almost reached out to grab it herself, but remembered at the last second that doing so would result in England forfeiting the game.

She glanced around quickly, trying to figure out a way to signal to Harry without alerting the other Seeker. But Harry was too busy searching the opposite end of the pitch to notice Hermione staring him down.

The Snitch zipped back and forth in front of her, its wings fluttering like crazy, like it was preparing to disappear again. Hermione groaned, realising she had no other choice.

“Harry!” she screamed, gaining the attention of more than half of the players on the pitch. “Get over here now!”

Harry looked back at her with wide eyes. Hermione made a few gestures with her hands that she desperately hoped would convey her message of the Snitch is right in front of me, now get your bloody arse over here and finish this.

It was only when the French Seeker darted off towards Hermione, that Harry’s brain put the pieces together. The Snitch, as if sensing it was in danger, flitted away from Hermione. She lost track of it within seconds, but Harry seemed to be able to keep it in his sights, even from a distance.

“Thank the gods for those glasses, Hermione thought, letting out a sigh of relief. She saw Narcissa crack a smile from a few feet away and shook her head, grinning to herself as well. “Get out of my head,” she teased.

“I’m trying!” Narcissa held her hands up in mock surrender.

Hermione was so focused on Narcissa, she conpletely missed the Snitch being caught. All she heard was the roar of the crowd and her stomach dropped, fearing the worst. She shot a questioning glance at Narcissa, but the older witch seemed just as confused as her.

Finally, Hermione spotted Harry holding up the tiny ball with a triumphant grin. Hermione threw her hands in the air, letting out a whoop of excitement, then flew towards the rest of her team to join in the celebration. She threw her arms around Harry, almost knocking him off his broom in the process, but neither of them cared. Then she felt the rest of her teammates join in, until she couldn’t distinguish her own limbs from the multiple pairs around her.

“Guys, you know what this means, right?” Ginny asked, raising her head.

“We’re in the semi-finals?” Hermione finished for her.

“We’re in the semi-finals!” Ginny repeated in disbelief.

Hermione found her gaze drifting to Narcissa, who was wearing what might have been the most genuine smile Hermione had ever seen on her. She even thought she saw her eyes welling up with tears, but Narcissa blinked them away quickly.

“I don’t care how tired any of you are,” Ginny continued. “We’re going out tonight. We need to celebrate.”

“Agreed. I definitely need a drink after that,” Andromeda groaned, and the rest of the players nodded too. “Just as soon as we all shower. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I haven’t sweat this much in a long time.”

“Oh, definitely. I’m not going anywhere with Ron with him smelling the way he does right now.” Ginny’s nose wrinkled as she shoved Ron away from her dramatically.

“Hey! That’s uncalled for,” Ron protested, then ducked his head as if to check whether he really did smell bad.

“Alright, alright,” Andromeda chuckled. “Come on, I’m sure we’ll have to deal with being bombarded by reporters before we can get to the fun part. We might as well get it over with sooner rather than later.”

Sure enough, the second their feet touched the ground, the team was surrounded by various reporters, all shouting their questions over each other. Hermione forced herself to smile through it, and she and her teammates began to answer as many people as they could.

Chapter 10

“I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait to get out of France,” Narcissa groaned, rolling out her shoulder. “And to never have to see that man again.”

“Does it still hurt?” Hermione asked, poking her head out of the bathroom as she put in her earrings.

“No, it’s just stiff...”

Narcissa turned as Hermione emerged from behind the wall and fell silent. Her eyes raked over Hermione’s outfit slowly, making the younger witch shift nervously on her feet. She had chosen to wear black jeans with a sleeveless black top made of silk.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, glancing down at her clothes. “Don’t tell me there’s a stain or something.”

“No, uh…” Narcissa cleared her throat and shook her head. “You look great— Er— Your clothes look fine, I mean.”

Hermione stared back at Narcissa in surprise, feeling a blush creeping up her neck. “Oh. Thank you. I’m finished in the bathroom, if you want to go in there, by the way.”

Narcissa nodded and disappeared into the small bathroom, returning minutes later in a long, dark green dress with a slit in the leg that made Hermione’s jaw drop.

“Wow,” she gasped before she could stop herself. She couldn’t even find the words to compliment Narcissa. Nothing felt sufficient.

Narcissa seemed to get the idea though. With a smirk, she moved closer and tapped Hermione’s chin with her finger. “Close your mouth, Granger, or you’ll catch flies.”

Hermione stammered helplessly, unable to think of a comeback. Narcissa breezed past her to stand in front of the floor-length mirror in the corner of their room, smoothing out her dress while she pretended not to look at Hermione, who was still frozen in the spot Narcissa had left her.

A knock on the door startled Hermione back into the present. She hurried across the room, without sparing Narcissa another glance, and yanked the door open eagerly. Ginny greeted her on the other side, tapping her foot impatiently.

“What is taking you two so long?” she huffed. “We’ve all been waiting for you downstairs for ages.”

“Merlin, Ginny, give a girl a few minutes to get ready, at least,” Hermione said, laughing at her friend’s lack of patience. “We’ve barely been back here an hour.”

”Well, if you two aren’t ready in the next two minutes, we’re leaving without you,” Ginny threatened.

“No need,” Narcissa cut in, appearing behind Hermione. “I’m ready to go. Are you?”

Hermione glanced over her shoulder and gulped when she noticed how close Narcissa was standing. “Yes, I’m ready,” she answered, forcing her voice to remain steady.

“Brilliant!” Ginny cheered, grabbing the two witches by their wrists. “Let’s go.”

They had decided to venture to a Muggle bar, since it would be their best option to have some privacy without being hounded by fans and reporters for the night. It was quite a distance from the hotel, but with the excitement still hanging in the air from their win, none of them cared that much.

It was still relatively early by the time they arrived, so they easily found a table that accommodated all eight of them, and took turns going to the bar for their drinks. Hermione ordered vodka and Coke and Ginny followed suit, not knowing enough about Muggle alcohol to pick something herself. Harry, Ron, and Oliver each returned with beers, while Andromeda and Bellatrix both went for whiskey. Narcissa opted for a glass of white wine.

They fell into a conversation about Quidditch, with it being the only thing they all had in common. Hermione quickly lost count of how many rounds they bought, but her head was starting to feel fuzzy already. The music got louder as the night went on and the bar filled with people, making it harder for the group to hear each other. Eventually, they just decided to go with the crowd, and they moved to the dance floor.

Hermione finished off her drink and tried to signal to Ginny to ask her if she wanted another one, but Ginny was too busy flirting with Harry to notice her. Hermione shrugged to herself and slipped away, unnoticed by the rest of the team, to get herself another drink.

She leaned against the bar, glad to have something to steady herself for a few minutes, while she waited for the bartender to make his way down through the crowd of people surrounding him.

“Hi there.”

Hermione jumped, surprised by the sudden greeting that came far too close to her ear for her comfort. She glanced at the man next to her and wiped his spit from the side of her face with the back of her hand, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You are gorgeous,” he slurred, swaying closer to her again. “Can I get your number?”

“No,” Hermione answered shortly, turning back to the bar with a silent prayer that the bartender would hurry up.

“Why not? Just let me buy you a drink, at least,” the man said, sliding closer to Hermione.

“No, thank you,” Hermione repeated firmly. She tried to step away, but the man grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to stay in place.

“Oh, come on. One drink.”

Hermione grew tense when she felt an arm slip around her waist, almost considering drawing her wand despite being surrounded by Muggles, but she relaxed again at the sound of a familiar voice speaking up from beside her.

“I believe she told you no,” Narcissa said sharply.

“And who are you?” The man’s eyes roamed up and down, taking in Narcissa’s appearance hungrily.

“Nobody you need to be concerned with,” Narcissa replied, turning away from him to face Hermione. “Are you alright, darling?”

Darling.

Hermione’s cheeks burned as she felt Narcissa’s thumb stroking her waist lightly through the fabric of her shirt. She opened her mouth to reply, but all that managed to escape was a tiny squeak, so she simply nodded instead.

“Are you two… together, or something?” the man asked, looking like he’d just tasted something sour.

“Yes,” Narcissa answered, causing Hermione’s head to snap in her direction. “And?”

The man ignored the glare Narcissa was sending his way and licked his lips, glancing between them both. He tried to take another step closer and Hermione noticed Narcissa’s wand slipping into her hand in response.

“Uh, darling,” Hermione coughed, nudging Narcissa and giving her a pointed look. “I think we should forget about the drinks, don’t you?”

Narcissa sighed and tucked her wand away again. “Come on, let’s dance,” she said, tugging Hermione away from the bar.

Narcissa kept her hand on Hermione’s lower back until they reached the dance floor, then rested both hands on the younger woman’s hips, keeping up with their facade. Hermione reciprocated by wrapping her arms around Narcissa’s neck and pulling her closer so they could talk over the music.

“There you go jumping to my defence again. Careful, or people might start to think you actually like me.”

“Hmm, perhaps you’re right,” Narcissa agreed, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “And what would these people think if they saw us dancing together?”

“Well, I think Skeeter might just have a field day if she ever got her hands on a photo of this,” Hermione chuckled, glancing down at Narcissa’s arms around her waist. “Thank you, by the way. Again.”

“There’s no need for that,” Narcissa said, shaking her head. “He’s a creep. He’s still watching us now, trying to figure out if we were lying.”

Narcissa kept her eyes trained on the man, while Hermione could only look at Narcissa. The older witch’s expression became distant for a few seconds before a grimace formed and Hermione felt her shudder beneath her hands. She tilted her head up at Narcissa with a questioning look.

“I made the mistake of reading his thoughts,” Narcissa explained with a frown. “He truly is disgusting. If I hadn’t been passing by at the right moment…”

“But you were,” Hermione interrupted. Narcissa still wouldn’t tear her eyes away from the man, so Hermione lightly pressed her fingers against Narcissa’s jaw, forcing her to turn her head. Hermione thought she saw a hint of pink colouring Narcissa’s cheeks, but in the low light she couldn’t be sure. “Nothing happened, thanks to you.”

“Just… don’t go off on your own again, alright?” Narcissa pleaded. “He doesn’t believe that we’re a couple, so he might try something else if he sees you alone.”

“Alright, I won’t,” Hermione agreed. “But… There is one way we could convince him, then he might stop circling us like a vulture and we could both go back to enjoying our night.”

“What is it?” Narcissa asked, looking down at Hermione curiously.

Hermione pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and trailed her fingers, which were still resting on Narcissa’s jaw, downwards until her hand was on the back of her neck. She glanced down at Narcissa's lips and felt herself blushing again at the mere thought of doing what she was about to do. She wasn’t sure where the idea came from, or why she was even considering it, but now that it was in her head it was all she could think about.

If Narcissa had figured out Hermione’s plan, she didn’t pull away or show any signs of disgust, which gave the younger witch a small boost of confidence. Still, Hermione hesitated. In the corner of her eye, she could see the man pushing his way through the crowd, moving towards the two witches. Before he could get too close to them, Hermione pushed all her doubts aside and took the leap, leaning forward to press her lips against Narcissa’s.

Hermione felt her stomach drop the same way it had the very first time she flew on a broomstick. She could almost hear the wind rushing in her ears, drowning out the music blasting in the nightclub. The mixture of nerves and excitement sent a shiver throughout her entire body that she wished would never end.

It took what felt like hours, but was probably only a few seconds, for Hermione to realise that Narcissa had gone completely stiff against her. Hermione pulled back immediately, letting her arms drop from Narcissa’s shoulders as she put distance between herself and the older witch, who was still frozen and staring at Hermione with wide eyes.

“I– I am so sorry,” she stuttered, bracing herself for Narcissa to start throwing hexes. “I don’t know what came over me. I’ve clearly had too much to drink, and– and– I should just go. I’m sorry.”

Hermione started to walk away, kicking herself internally for ruining the brief almost-friendship that was beginning to form between her and Narcissa, and most likely destroying their chances of winning the World Cup. There was no way she and Narcissa would be able to work together after something like this.

Hermione had only made it a couple of steps when she felt a hand grab her by the elbow, turning her back around. Narcissa caught up to Hermione and looked down at her with an unreadable expression. Hermione opened her mouth to apologise again, but snapped it shut when Narcissa reached up to push a strand of hair behind Hermione’s ear. Then, Narcissa bent down and captured Hermione’s lips with her own, sending the younger witch’s pulse through the roof.

This time, Hermione was the one who was slow to respond to the kiss. She felt Narcissa’s arms wrap around her waist again, closing the already small gap between their bodies. Hermione’s own arms hung limply by her sides until she regained enough sense to move them, clutching onto Narcissa’s upper arms as if her life depended on it.

Slowly, Hermione began to reciprocate the kiss. As she pressed back against Narcissa, she felt the other witch smile against her lips, which made her do the same. They broke apart once more and stared at each other, chests heaving from a lack of oxygen. Neither witch said a word while they caught their breaths.

“Wow,” Hermione breathed out softly.

Narcissa hummed quietly in agreement, then kissed Hermione again, tangling her fingers in the younger witch’s hair. She ran her tongue along Hermione’s bottom lip, which dropped open immediately, granting her access. Hermione moaned into Narcissa’s mouth and the older witch pulled back, staring at her with parted lips and darkened eyes.

“If you keep that up, you might get us kicked out,” Narcissa gasped.

“I can’t help it,” Hermione murmured, tilting her head upward again until she felt Narcissa’s breath against her lips. “Especially when you’re kissing me like that. If anything, it’ll be your fault.”

“As much as I enjoy a challenge,” Narcissa said with a mischievous glint in her eyes, “I’d rather not cause such a scene in public.”

“Imagine the headlines then,” Hermione chuckled. “Skeeter might just drop dead. On second thought, maybe we should give it a try.”

Narcissa leaned down to whisper in Hermione’s ear, her lips brushing against the skin and causing a shudder to run down Hermione’s spine. “Or, we could go back to the hotel.”

Hermione’s mouth went dry and her heart hammered against her ribcage. She gulped, trying to find her voice again. “Yeah, I like your idea better.”

Narcissa smiled and stepped back, taking Hermione’s hand in her own. “Come on, then.”

Hermione followed Narcissa out of the club on shaky legs, hardly even feeling the bitter cold as they emerged onto the street. The feel of Narcissa’s hand intertwined with hers warmed her entire body. Narcissa led her down the side alley next to the bar, taking them out of view of the Muggles.

“We’re Apparating?” Hermione questioned. “Is that safe?”

“I’m not so drunk that I can’t handle it, but we can walk if you’d prefer.“

Hermione remembered the distance they had to walk to get to the bar and shook her head. Narcissa pulled Hermione closer and held her by the waist. “Do you trust me?”

If Hermione had been asked that question any other time, she wouldn’t have given it a second thought before answering with a definite ‘no’. But then, she found herself nodding and realised she truly meant it. When Narcissa smiled down at Hermione in response, the younger witch thought she wouldn’t care if they Apparated off a cliff; if Narcissa’s smile was the last thing she saw, that would be okay with her.

Hermione closed her eyes and rested her head against Narcissa’s shoulder, taking a few deep breaths to clear her mind. Those kinds of thoughts were not helping to ease her nerves in the slightest. Narcissa hugged her tightly and the world spun around them until they landed in the hotel lobby.

They made a beeline for the lift and the second they were inside with the door closed, Hermione was pressed up against the wall with Narcissa’s mouth on her, trailing kisses from her jaw to her neck. She gasped and bit her lip to keep herself from making any other noises while Narcissa sucked at her pulse point. When she felt Narcissa’s teeth nipping at the same spot, her head fell back against the wall with a thud and a low groan escaped her lips. Narcissa smirked against Hermione’s neck, earning a weak shove from the younger witch.

“Don’t be so… smug,” Hermione gasped.

”I can’t help it,” Narcissa teased, making her way back up to Hermione’s lips for a chaste kiss as the lift came to a stop.

Narcissa dragged Hermione down the hallway to their room and giggled as Hermione fumbled with the key, then dropped it when Narcissa rested her hands on her hips and pressed against her back.

“Shut up,” Hermione grumbled as she bent down to pick the key up.

“I didn’t say anything!” Narcissa protested.

“You were thinking it.”

Narcissa didn’t deny it this time. Hermione finally managed to get the key in the door and then she was the one pushing Narcissa up against the door as she closed it, earning a surprised grunt from the other witch. Hermione pressed their bodies together, feeling like she couldn’t get enough of Narcissa. Her head was spinning, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or the kissing.

Hermione felt as if Narcissa’s hands were everywhere, all at once. They were in her hair, then sliding down her back, clutching her waist; it was intoxicating. All she could do was grip Narcissa’s shoulders to keep herself from collapsing on her unsteady legs. Then, she felt the older witch tugging at the hem of her shirt and her breath hitched.

“Can I take this off?” Narcissa asked, pulling back to see Hermione’s reaction.

“You still haven’t bought me dinner,” Hermione pointed out.

Narcissa chuckled and kissed Hermione’s cheek. “Well, if you’d prefer to wait until we’ve done that part…”

“No!” Hermione replied quickly and helped Narcissa pull her top over her head. “No, definitely not.”

Narcissa’s eyes trailed downwards and she swallowed at the sight of Hermione standing before her in just her bra. Of course, they had been in a similar position the night before, but that had been under very different circumstances, and Narcissa hadn’t been looking at her then. One of Narcissa’s hands went straight to Hermione’s stomach, her fingers trailing along the toned muscles the younger witch had earned from the years of Quidditch. Hermione blushed under Narcissa’s gaze and fought the urge to cover herself with her arms.

“You’re beautiful,” Narcissa whispered in awe.

Hermione shivered and giggled nervously, opting to kiss Narcissa again in lieu of a response. She didn’t quite trust her voice at that moment. Narcissa didn’t seem bothered by this, responding eagerly to the kiss while she fiddled with the button of Hermione’s trousers. Hermione, wanting to even the score, found the zip of Narcissa’s dress and dragged it downwards slowly. The material fell away from Narcissa’s shoulders and landed in a pile around her feet. Then it was Hermione’s turn to admire the older woman’s toned body, and all her thoughts went right out the window. Her jaw dropped and she couldn’t even find the words to compliment Narcissa properly.

“Fuck me,” she blurted out instead, immediately slapping a hand over her mouth afterwards.

“That is the idea, darling,” Narcissa answered in that smug tone that usually drove Hermione mad, but now it had a completely different effect on the younger witch.

Narcissa stepped out of the dress that was around her ankles, kicking off her heels in the process, and walked Hermione backwards until the back of her legs hit the edge of their bed. She knelt on the floor, pulling Hermione’s trousers down with her and removed her shoes too. Hermione watched on in disbelief, and considered pinching herself to see whether or not she was actually dreaming. Narcissa pressed her lips against Hermione’s inner thigh and laughed when the younger woman’s knees buckled, sending her crashing onto the bed.

Narcissa climbed back up and straddled Hermione instead, tilting the younger woman’s chin up so she could capture her lips in another heated kiss. Hermione wrapped her arms around Narcissa’s waist and leaned back, pulling the older witch down on top of her as she settled back against the pillows. She fumbled with the clip of Narcissa’s bra for a few seconds before she managed to get it open, while Narcissa simply reached behind Hermione and undid hers in one swift motion and smirked at the younger witch as she removed the garment.

“Show off,” Hermione muttered.

“I didn’t realise it was a competition,” Narcissa replied, but the proud glint in her eyes told Hermione otherwise.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Hermione deadpanned. “Everything’s a competition with you.”

“Why are we debating this when there’s so many more productive things we could be doing?” To prove her point, Narcissa kissed her way down Hermione’s neck, then to her chest, where she took a nipple into her mouth and sucked, dragging a moan out of Hermione.

“Fuck, Narcissa,” she gasped out, arching into the older woman.

Narcissa released Hermione’s nipple and flashed her a grin before moving on to the other one. Hermione thought she might die just from this. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, trying to keep herself grounded. She ran through Quidditch tactics in her mind to distract herself from the arousal that was growing stronger by the second.

When Narcissa’s mouth began to leave a trail of hot kissed down her stomach, getting closer to where Hermione needed it most, all thoughts left her brain. She couldn’t even remember the names of the balls used in Quidditch.

Narcissa paused when she reached Hermione’s underwear and nipped at her hipbone with her teeth. Hermione’s hips bucked in response, earning a smile from Narcissa. Then she reached up and hooked her finger around the waistband and looked up at Hermione.

“May I?” she whispered, pressing her lips to Hermione’s stomach lightly.

Hermione forgot how to breathe. Her eyes remained screwed shut as she tried to remember how to speak. Narcissa, taking this as a bad sign, removed her hands from Hermione’s body and pushed herself up.

“Hermione?” she prompted, her eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright? Do you want to stop?”

Finally, Hermione’s brain managed to catch up. “Merlin, no!” she gasped, leaning on her elbows so she could look Narcissa in the eyes. “I’m just— Fuck, Narcissa, you’re so— Please, don’t stop. Ever.”

Narcissa chuckled and took Hermione’s hand, squeezing gently. “Breathe, darling.”

Hermione felt her face flush and she lay back down with a groan. The way Narcissa said the word ‘darling’ bounced around in her mind, sending butterflies straight to her stomach. “You’re not helping.”

“I know,” Narcissa teased, dropping Hermione’s hand so she could pick up where she left off. “So…?”

”Black, if you don’t take those off in the next three seconds, I’m going to—“

Narcissa didn’t wait for Hermione to finish her sentence. She pulled Hermione’s underwear off and threw them behind her, then kissed her way back up the inside of Hermione’s thigh. Hermione spread her legs willingly, giving Narcissa more space. Narcissa nipped and sucked at Hermione’s thigh, leaving a couple of marks in her path, and then—

Hermione inhaled sharply when Narcissa’s mouth finally pressed between her legs. She felt around blindly until she found Narcissa’s hand again and grasped it tightly, feeling Narcissa’s fingers intertwine with her own immediately.

“Holy shit,” she whined as Narcissa’s tongue pressed against her firmly. “Narcissa…”

A moan escaped her lips as Narcissa sucked, and Hermione wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out. But it was too soon, she couldn’t— Narcissa would never let her live it down if she gave in so quickly.

Then Hermione felt Narcissa’s free hand join her mouth, one finger just barely pressing into her, and she bit her lip so hard she thought she might draw blood. Slowly, Narcissa pushed two fingers in and Hermione cried out. Loudly. She hoped the walls weren’t too thin, otherwise they would have a lot to explain to their teammates the next morning.

“Narcissa,” she gasped. “Fuck… Yes, that’s… Don’t stop. Please.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” came Narcissa’s reply in Hermione’s head.

Hermione moaned and shuddered at the sound of Narcissa’s voice echoing in her mind while she was in the middle of doing that with her mouth. She never even considered the idea of a Legilimens using their ability for that purpose, but she was definitely glad to have discovered it.

Narcissa’s hand picked up speed and Hermione’s eyes rolled back into her head. Maybe she had died already. She wouldn’t be surprised at this point. Her body began to tremble and she tried desperately to hold out a little longer, not wanting it to be over just yet.

Then Narcissa’s teeth grazed against her and she was done for. She felt the tension that had been building inside her finally release and she collapsed, chest heaving while she saw stars dancing behind her eyes. Narcissa’s hand slowed down, easing Hermione down from her high, and she left one final kiss against Hermione’s inner thigh before pulling away.

Hermione opened her eyes just in time to see Narcissa’s fingers disappear into her mouth and she moaned helplessly at the sight. Narcissa smiled brightly at Hermione and lay down next to her, propping herself up on one elbow as her other hand traced patterns on Hermione’s stomach.

“You are… unbelievable,” Hermione breathed out. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

Narcissa hummed and leaned down to press her lips to Hermione’s. ”Me too.”

Narcissa started to pull away, but Hermione reached up and tangled her fingers in Narcissa’s hair, holding her in place as she deepened the kiss. She whined at the taste lingering on Narcissa’s tongue and rolled over, pinning Narcissa beneath her.

Narcissa moaned in surprise at the change of positions, but she pulled Hermione down on top of her eagerly. Hermione moved down to Narcissa’s neck, taking the time to get revenge for the marks she knew she would have to cover up in the morning. Once she found a particular spot just under Narcissa’s jaw that made her twitch, Hermione bit down, dragging a breathy moan from the older witch. She grinned and ran her tongue along the same spot, soothing it over.

As she continued her attack on Narcissa’s neck, her hand went to Narcissa’s breast and she cupped it, brushing her thumb lightly over the nipple. Narcissa shuddered and pressed up into Hermione’s hand, urging her to keep going. Hermione obliged while Narcissa tugged her back towards her lips by the back of her neck, immediately opening her mouth to give Hermione access. Their kisses grew sloppy as they both struggled for breath, but neither witch wanted to pull away.

Eventually, growing impatient, Narcissa grabbed the younger witch’s wrist and dragged her hand down her body. When she was sure Hermione got the idea, she let go and wrapped her arms around Hermione’s back, scratching lightly.

Hermione paused for a moment to feel the older witch’s muscles, just as Narcissa had done to her earlier. She understood now, why that had been the first thing Narcissa did. Hermione dragged her nails along her taut stomach and finally reached her goal.

“Merlin, you’re so…. wet,” she whispered, breaking away from Narcissa’s mouth to look her in the eyes.

“What did you expect, with you teasing me like that?” Narcissa gasped, rolling her hips against Hermione’s hand.

“Sorry,” Hermione chuckled. “I couldn’t help it.”

She ran her finger in small circles, watching closely for Narcissa’s reactions. She wasn’t about to admit that she basically had no idea what she was doing, so she figured this was her best option.

“Hermione, please,” Narcissa breathed. “I need you.”

Hermione groaned at that and dropped her head onto Narcissa’s shoulder. She gave in and pushed two fingers in, revelling in the moan she received in response.

“Fuck.” Narcissa’s voice came out in a high pitched gasp. “Harder.”

Hermione managed to pick her head back up to look at Narcissa again, but the older witch had her eyes closed. She leaned down and trailed her lips along Narcissa’s jaw while she pumped her fingers harder as instructed.

Narcissa’s nails dug into Hermione’s back hard enough that it should have been painful, but Hermione didn’t care. She kissed her way further down Narcissa’s neck, towards her chest, and circled a nipple with her tongue.

“Yes!” Narcissa chanted as Hermione sucked at her chest and continued to move her hand faster again, adding a third finger. “Hermione!”

Hermione felt Narcissa tighten around her, and then she felt teeth digging into her shoulder as Narcissa tried to muffle her cries. Hermione slowed her pace gradually, just like Narcissa had done for her, and eventually felt the body beneath her relax.

Narcissa kept her arms around Hermione as the younger witch rolled to the side, giving Narcissa time to catch her breath. Hermione held her hand up to the light, staring at the wetness on her fingers in awe. The image of Narcissa cleaning her own fingers off popped into Hermione’s head and, curious, she brought her fingers to her mouth and moaned at the taste.

“Oh, fuck.”

Hermione looked over to find Narcissa watching her, open-mouthed, and she blushed. Narcissa grabbed her face and pulled her into a firm kiss, taking Hermione by surprise. Then she lay back with a satisfied sigh and pulled Hermione closer. Hermione draped her arm over Narcissa’s stomach and rested her head on her shoulder.

“Well,” Hermione mumbled after a few minutes. “I bet Skeeter didn’t see that one coming.”

“You’re right,” Narcissa agreed, “But please don’t ever mention that woman’s name while we’re naked in bed together.”

Hermione laughed loudly and buried her head in the crook of Narcissa’s neck. “Oh, gods, why did I say that?”

“I have no idea,” Narcissa groaned, joining in with Hermione’s giggling.

As Hermione’s laughter died down, she felt her eyes growing heavy and she relaxed further into Narcissa’s embrace. The last thing she felt before she drifted off was Narcissa pulling the duvet over both of their bodies, then she settled in too.

Chapter 11

When Hermione woke the next morning, she could feel an arm draped over her stomach and a body pressed against her back. With a furrowed brow, she glanced over her shoulder and felt her body tense up when she saw Narcissa, still sleeping soundly. And, what was even more weird than Narcissa cuddling her in her sleep, was the fact that neither of them were wearing any clothes.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as the events of the night before came back to her. She had slept with Narcissa Black. Her biggest rival; the woman she was supposed to hate.

As gently as she could, she picked Narcissa’s arm up by her wrist and slowly moved it off of her body so she could escape without waking the witch. Then she grabbed the first set of clothes she could find from her bag and tip-toed to the bathroom to get dressed. When she saw herself in the mirror, her jaw dropped. Her neck and chest were covered in bruises left by Narcissa. She ran her fingers along the dark spots and bit her lip at the memories flooding her brain of the previous night.

After a moment, she shook herself back to the present and continued to get ready. She opted to use magic to clean herself, not wanting to wake Narcissa by turning on the shower, and to cover the bruises on her neck. Once she was fully presentable, she quickly got dressed and snuck out of the room while Narcissa was still asleep.

When Hermione was out of the room, she felt like she could finally breathe again. As she took a seat in the hotel’s restaurant, a wave of guilt washed over her for leaving without an explanation, but she hadn’t figured out how to face Narcissa just yet.

Shortly after, she was joined by Andromeda, who greeted her with a warm smile. “Hey, you’re up early,” she said, sitting across from Hermione.

“Yeah, I… I always wake early,” Hermione said, looking everywhere but Andromeda’s eyes. She felt like if she made eye contact, even for a second, Andromeda would somehow know everything.

“Are you alright?” Andromeda asked, tilting her head at the younger witch.

“Me?” Hermione squeaked, even though there was nobody else at the table. “Yes! I’m fine.”

Andromeda squinted at Hermione and opened her mouth to question her further, but she was thankfully interrupted by a groan coming from behind Hermione. A moment later, Bellatrix dropped into the chair next to Andromeda and laid her head on the table.

“Remind me never to do shots with a Weasley ever again,” Bellatrix moaned into the table. “That girl is dangerous.”

“Oh, I’m sure you had nothing to do with that,” Andromeda teased. “It was all Ginny’s fault, right?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Hermione muttered. “I’ve fallen for that trap far too many times.”

“What trap is this?”

Hermione’s entire body froze at the sound of the voice she was dreading to hear. Narcissa sat down on the other side of Andromeda and looked at Hermione. Her eyes were asking a different question than the one she had asked out loud, but Hermione turned away before she could figure out the answer.

“Apparently Ginny is a bad influence when it comes to shots,” Andromeda explained, not noticing the tension between the two witches.

“Are you sure that wasn’t Bella?” Narcissa replied, raising an eyebrow at her eldest sister, who responded by flipping her off.

“I definitely saw Bella leading Ginny to the bar a few times,” Andromeda chuckled in agreement. “Didn’t you?”

Narcissa shook her head. “I didn’t see anything, but I’ve been on the end of Bella’s persuasions before. I’d certainly believe that it was her fault.”

“That’s right,” Andromeda hummed. “You were gone before that. Both of you were, actually. Why did you leave so early?”

Hermione choked on her water and doubled over, coughing loudly. Andromeda and Narcissa both looked at her like she had gone mad. Bellatrix could only lift her head long enough to squint at Hermione briefly, but it was clear she felt the same as her sisters.

“Sorry,” Hermione spluttered. “I, uh… We just… Well, Narcissa…”

“Narcissa? Since when are you two on a first-name basis?” Andromeda asked, glancing between the two witches suspiciously.

“Hermione wasn’t feeling well last night, so I brought her back to the hotel,” Narcissa said with a sigh, ignoring Andromeda’s second question.

“Right.” Hermione cleared her throat and nodded. “Yes, that’s what happened.”

“If you’re trying to be subtle, you’re not doing a very good job.”

Hermione flinched when she heard Narcissa’s voice in her mind. She bumped into the table, knocking over her glass and earning a groan from Bellatrix, whose head was jostled by the movement. Hermione blushed and took out her wand to clean up the spilled water and mumbled an apology to Bellatrix.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Hermione?” Andromeda asked. “You’re acting strange.”

Hermione wanted to run away from the table. If she could, she would’ve Apparated herself back to England and hidden away from anything to do with Narcissa. But she was stuck there until the rest of the team arrived and Oliver’s portkey was activated.

“I’m… still not feeling well,” Hermione said, keeping her eyes trained on the table in an effort to hide her feelings from the two witches in front of her.

Andromeda still didn’t look convinced, but she dropped the subject when the rest of the team joined them. Ginny stumbled to the table behind the three men, looking just as bad as Bellatrix. She collapsed next to Hermione and immediately buried her head in her hands without saying a word to anyone.

Oliver scanned the table, surveying the damage from the night before. Once he was satisfied that Bellatrix and Ginny were the only two players in dire need of help, he dug into his bag and pulled out two Pepperup Potions and slid them along the table to each of the witches. It took great effort, and a little help from Andromeda and Hermione, but Bellatrix and Ginny managed to get the potions down. Within minutes the colour was returning to their faces, and Oliver began to speak.

“I really can’t tell you all how proud I am of your performance yesterday. You all played brilliantly,” he gushed, taking the time to look at each member of the team in turn. “I mean it. You’ve all come such a long way from that first day; both in terms of skill and your relationship as a team.”

Then Oliver glanced at Hermione and Narcissa and chuckled, adding, “Some more than others. Anyway…”

The rest of Oliver’s speech faded out as Hermione focused on Narcissa and tried to keep her thoughts quiet. She couldn’t let Narcissa hear what was going on in her mind; whether it was the memories of the night before that kept replaying in her head, or the fear that followed after.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably as Narcissa continued to scrutinise her. Suddenly she was reminded of just how intense those blue eyes were. She felt like she was drowning in them, and not in a good way. Certainly not the way that stare made her feel the previous night.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Between her own thoughts and Narcissa’s gaze on her, she was quickly becoming overwhelmed. Narcissa didn’t try to communicate with her through Legilimency again, which was a relief. Hermione was sure she would have a heart attack if she did that.

She hardly even noticed when the table began to clear until Ginny tapped her on the shoulder, making her jump. She tore her eyes away from Narcissa, who remained seated on the other side of the table, even as her sisters left.

“Didn’t you hear Oliver?” Ginny asked. “It’s almost time for the Portkey to activate.”

”Oh, right. Sorry, I was a little distracted.” Hermione glanced at Narcissa and gulped before standing with Ginny. “Let’s go.”

“Hermione.”

Hermione stopped, but she didn’t turn towards Narcissa. Ginny tilted her head at Hermione, waiting for her a few steps away. Hermione sighed and waved Ginny on without a word, then finally turned to face Narcissa, who was looking at her expectantly. They could talk freely now that they were alone, but still, they stayed quiet for a few minutes. In the end, it was Narcissa who broke the silence.

“Are we ever going to talk about what happened?”

Hermione gripped the back of a chair to steady herself. “Do we have to?” she muttered before she could stop the words from coming out.

Narcissa gritted her teeth and stood up. “I suppose not. We can just keep going the way we are now, where you flinch every time I speak, or even look at you, if that’s what you’d prefer. So much for us becoming a team, right?”

Narcissa made to walk past Hermione, but the younger witch reached out and grabbed her arm before she could escape. “Wait. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it?” Narcissa asked harshly.

“I just…” Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and took a moment to gather her thoughts. “This is all new to me. I don’t really know how to act around you after…”

Narcissa stopped trying to pull her arm out of Hermione’s hold and looked at her in surprise. “What about this is new to you? Have you never…”

Hermione’s face flushed deep red. “I have! But never with a witch,” she admitted softly. “I’ve never wanted to with a witch, or even considered it before.”

“Oh,” Narcissa breathed out.

Hermione waited for Narcissa to say something else, but nothing came. She relaxed her grip, but left her hand lingering on Narcissa’s arm, not quite wanting to pull away entirely. She stared at the spot where they were touching, struggling to ignore the way it made her feel like electricity was running up and down her arm.

“Yeah,” Hermione said eventually.

Narcissa nodded slowly and raised her hand enough to just graze her fingertips along the arm that was holding her in place. It was a small gesture, but enough to calm Hermione’s racing heart a little. “Do you regret it?”

“No, I…” Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“I see.” Narcissa stepped back, letting Hermione’s hand fall from her arm. Her expression became distant, turning back into the cold mask that Hermione had almost forgotten existed. It had been weeks since she last saw that look.

“Narcissa, it’s not that I didn’t… enjoy last night, but—“

“Shut up,” Narcissa interrupted suddenly.

Hermione recoiled, hurt that Natcissa apparently wouldn’t even hear her out. “Excuse me?”

“We’re not alone.” Narcissa’s eyes drifted over Hermione’s shoulder and she nodded in the same direction.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the sight of Skeeter entering the restaurant. “Of course.”

“Ms. Black! Ms. Granger!” Skeeter called, waving her arm wildly at the two witches. “Oh, am I interrupting? If I didn’t know any better, I would almost think you two were in the middle of some sort of lover’s quarrel.”

“We’re not,” Narcissa said sharply, glaring at Skeeter like she was silently willing her to burst into flames.

“Yes, I figured as much,” Skeeter answered, narrowing her eyes at Narcissa suspiciously.

“Guys, what’s taking you so long?” Andromeda appeared behind Skeeter, just in time to save the two witches. “Let’s go, or you’ll be left behind.”

Skeeter pursed her lips unhappily, but didn’t try to stop Hermione and Narcissa from leaving. Both of them breathed a sigh of relief and whispered their gratitude to Andromeda as they followed her back to the reception, where the rest of the team were already huddled around the Portkey. Hermione and Narcissa silently joined them and stood at opposite sides of the circle, refusing to look at each other.

Hermione was so caught up in the situation she had gotten herself into that she hardly even noticed the world spinning around her. Her stomach was still twisting uncomfortably by the time they landed on a familiar pitch, but she suspected that was more to do with the conversation she knew had to happen, rather than the usual nausea she got from magical transportation.

To Hermione’s surprise, when Andromeda and Bellatrix turned to leave, Narcissa started to follow them. She was vaguely aware of Ginny inviting her to lunch, but she brushed past her without answering and jogged after the Black sisters.

“Narcissa,” she called out softly, coming to a stop a few feet behind the older witch.

Narcissa turned with a heavy sigh and folded her arms across her chest, tapping her fingers impatiently. “Yes?”

“I thought—“ Hermione glanced nervously at the two witches behind Narcissa, who were watching them closely. She cleared her throat and lowered her voice to a whisper, so she wouldn’t be overheard. “I thought we were going to talk.”

Narcissa motioned for her sisters to give them some privacy. “What is there to talk about?” she asked with a shrug. “I asked you if you regretted what happened, and you said ‘I don’t know’. That seems quite clear to me.”

“We were interrupted before I could explain. Can we just have a proper conversation about this? Please?” Hermione begged.

Narcissa hesitated, turning her head away from the younger witch. “I think you have some things to figure out before we do that. We can’t have a proper discussion when you’re not even sure of where you stand.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but she couldn’t find the words. Narcissa was right, she knew that. If they were going to figure anything out, Hermione had to figure herself out first. Eventually, she nodded her head, giving in to Narcissa’s suggestion.

“Fine,” she said stiffly. “We’ll just forget about it.”

“Fine,” Narcissa agreed.

Then the two witches parted ways, joining two equally confused looking groups on either side of the pitch. Hermione stole a glance back in Narcissa’s direction, but all she saw was blonde hair getting further away from her. She shook her head, wishing she could just take back the last twenty four hours of her life. It would certainly make her life a lot less complicated.

“What was that about?” Ginny asked.

Harry and Ron were nearby, trying to act like they weren’t listening for the answer, but Hermione knew better than to believe that. Neither of them were exactly subtle about it, either. Ron was pretending to polish his broomstick, but he was wiping the tail instead of the handle, while Harry was packing and unpacking the same shirt from his bag repeatedly.

“Nothing,” Hermione grumbled, picking up the bag she had discarded when she was chasing after Narcissa.

“You two seemed to be getting on well in France,” Ginny said, prodding further. “Did you have another fight or something like that?”

“Something like that. Were you saying something about lunch?” Hermione asked, changing the subject. “Why don’t we try that new place on Diagon Alley?”

“Uh, okay,” Ginny agreed, furrowing her brow at her friend. “Are you alright?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Hermione huffed. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Oliver held his hands up in a what just happened? motion towards Ginny, but she just shrugged in response before running to catch up with Hermione, leaving Oliver shaking his head in frustration.

---

Oliver’s frustration continued into the next few days as their training continued. Hermione and Narcissa hadn’t spoken a word to each other since they returned from France, which meant they had stopped working together on the pitch too. No matter how many times Oliver shouted at them or made them run drills until they collapsed, it didn’t make a difference. And still, nobody could figure out what caused the sudden turn back to their old ways.

Ginny tried to interrogate Hermione over it, but she never got an answer. Hermione would always either change the subject herself or just shut down until Ginny gave up and started talking about something else. Andromeda and Bellatrix never gave any indication that they knew anything, so Hermione could only assume that Narcissa hadn’t told them either.

Still, every time she saw the three sisters huddled together at training, her heart stopped for a minute, sure that Narcissa was telling them everything. Blue eyes mer her own as she studied the group for the hundredth time that day and she quickly looked away, making herself look busy by refilling her bottle of water.

Hermione could feel Narcissa’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look over again for fear that Narcissa would use the opportunity to get inside her head. Though, she knew the older witch was capable of doing so without eye contact. Sometimes Hermione wished she had the same ability, so she could figure out what was going on in Narcissa’s mind.

Oliver blew his whistle, bringing an end to their break. Hermione mounted her broom and kicked off the ground, lagging behind as the others shot up towards the sky. Since the first moment she ever touched a broom, she knew she wanted to spend as much time as she possibly could in the air. Until now. This thing with Narcissa was even draining the fun out of her favourite sport. A small, selfish part of her almost hoped they would lose their next match, just so she wouldn’t have to spend every day around Narcissa anymore.

They were barely in the air ten minutes before everything went downhill again. First, it was when Hermione was flying towards the goals with the Quaffle and a single look in Narcissa’s direction made her freeze up, leaving her right in the path of a Bludger.

After that, Harry had the Quaffle and both Hermione and Narcissa went in to tackle him at the same time. At the last minute, they both pulled back, not wanting to get too close to each other, and Harry scored against them.

The final straw was when Narcissa was cornered with the Quaffle and Hermione was the only free player, but Narcissa refused to pass to her and lost the Quaffle to Harry. At that point, Oliver couldn’t stand to watch them any longer and called for them to stop.

“Hermione, Narcissa, what’s going on with you two?” he asked, practically pulling his hair out. “I thought we were past this; you’ve been doing so well lately.”

Narcissa looked at Hermione like she was wondering the same thing, but Hermione stared at the ground, avoiding both of their gazes. Oliver waited for a reply, but neither witch provided him with an answer. He sighed and hung his head, his disappointment clear.

“Well, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. But if there is something going on, I want you to talk it out between yourselves. I’m putting you both in a time-out until you’re ready to work together again,” he said, pointing towards the changing rooms.

“Really, Oliver?” Narcissa rolled her eyes. “A time-out? We’re not children.”

“Are you sure? Because that’s what you’re acting like,” Oliver threw back. “It’s not up for debate. Go, now.”

Hermione sighed and headed for the changing rooms, realising it was best not to argue with Oliver. She could hear footsteps following her, but she didn’t look over her shoulder until she was inside.

“Alright, what’s going on?” Narcissa asked, closing the door behind her. When Hermione didn’t answer straight away, she scoffed. “Come on, Hermione. You’re the one who wanted to talk about this.”

“The way I remember it, you wanted to talk first and then changed your mind,” Hermione retorted.

“Does it matter? We’re alone now, so let’s talk.” Narcissa gestured around the empty room to prove her point. “Why are you ignoring me?”

Hermione bit her lip and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know,” she said, toying with the strings of her robes to keep her shaking hands occupied.

“We slept together,” Narcissa said bluntly. “It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t mean you have to avoid me to the point of not even being able to look at me when we’re on the pitch. This is putting the entire team in jeopardy.”

“Maybe it’s not a big deal to you, but it is to me.” Hermione paused, a blush rising to her cheeks when she realised how that sounded, and tried to backtrack. “Not… Not in an ‘I like you’ way… Well, not that I don’t… Or, I don’t know, really…”

“Woah, Hermione, slow down. Relax,” Narcissa said, and despite her frustration with Hermione, she couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at the younger witch’s rambling.

“It’s not funny!” Hermione snapped, running her fingers through her hair.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Narcissa held her hands up in surrender. “Look, you don’t have to be so nervous. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

Hermione lowered her hands just enough that she could look at Narcissa in surprise. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

“How could I, when you’ve prectically been running away at the sight of me?” Realisation dawned on Narcissa before Hermione could answer her. “Wait, you don’t think… You thought I would read your mind, against your will?”

Narcissa’s expression turned to ice in an instant, and a wave of guilt washed over Hermione for even considering the possibility. Narcissa turned to leave, but Hermione reached out to stop her before she could get to the door.

“Narcissa, I’m sorry,” she said, running her thumb along the back of Narcissa’s hand.

“After everything I told you,” Narcissa hissed as she ripped her hand away and used it to pin Hermione against the wall. “About how my classmates accused me of spying on their thoughts, how I became an outcast to them. You’re just going to accuse me of the exact same thing?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I know you wouldn’t do that,” Hermione whispered. “But you also told me that sometimes you hear things without trying, when people don’t know how to hide their thoughts, and we both know I don’t know how to hide mine. I’ve spent this entire week terrified that I’ve been accidentally sharing all of my thoughts with you.”

That seemed to calm Narcissa down a little. She mulled over Hermione’s words for a minute, until finally her shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry for blowing up like that,” she said with a sigh. “But after everything…”

“I understand. You don’t have to explain,” Hermione said. “But I do. That is, if you still want to hear it?”

Narcissa nodded, squeezing Hermione’s shoulder gently as encouragement. “That last day in France, you told me you’ve never been with a witch before. Is that why you’ve been so distant?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered, her voice strained. Narcissa being so close to her, and touching her, wasn’t helping with her nerves, but she didn’t have it in her to move away either.

“Did you want to?” Narcissa asked, suddenly seeming nervous as she turned her head away. “You had a lot to drink, Hermione, and if I made you do anything you didn’t want to…”

“Stop,” Hermione interrupted, bringing her hand up to trace Narcissa’s jaw lightly. Narcissa’s eyes closed and she leaned in slightly to the touch. “We both had a lot to drink, but I knew what I was doing. You didn’t take advantage of me, Narcissa, I promise. I kissed you first, remember? I wanted to, but…”

“You don’t want to again,” Narcissa finished, looking back at Hermione with a soft smile.

Hermione found her gaze drifting to Narcissa’s lips, imagining what it would be like to kiss her again, in the light of day without the influence of alcohol. The idea excited her, but it scared her even more.

“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted with a frustrated groan. “This is all so confusing.”

“Believe me, I understand,” Narcissa chuckled, giving Hermione’s shoulder another sympathetic squeeze. “What did Ginny think of it all?”

“Ginny?” Hermione questioned, surprised by the mention of her friend. “I haven’t told her.”

Narcissa’s brow furrowed slightly in response. “Oh.”

“Not that I didn’t want to. As in, not that I was embarrassed, or anything like that,” Hermione added quickly, wondering how she always managed to say the wrong thing. “I just—“

“Hermione, relax. You don’t have to tell anyone anything unless you’re comfortable with it. I was just surprised, that’s all,” Narcissa explained. “I thought you told her everything.”

“Normally I do,” Hermione sighed. “But I wasn’t sure how she would react.”

“I may not know her well, but I don’t think she would react badly. She’s your best friend, she’ll love you either way,” Narcissa reassured her.

Hermione hummed quietly. Narcissa was right, again. It was starting to get annoying how much that was happening lately. But as much as she tried, Hermione couldn’t picture Ginny turning against her for something like this.

“So, where does that leave us?” Narcissa asked after a few minutes of silence. “I don’t want to push you, but Oliver did say he would leave us in here until we figured things out and, as much as I have started to enjoy your company, I would like to see the sun again at some point,” she teased, succeeding in her plan to get Hermione to laugh.

“Look, Narcissa…” Hermione began, stroking the other witch’s jaw. Her eyes followed her own movement, then flitted to Narcissa’s lips again, and suddenly she couldn’t remember what she was about to say.

She didn’t even notice herself leaning closer until she was only centimetres away from Narcissa, and blue eyes fluttered closed. Hermione inhaled shakily before leaning even closer, until the hand on her shoulder tightened its grip, holding her in place.

“Hermione, don’t,” Narcissa whispered, her breath ghosting across Hermione’s lips. She kept her eyes closed as she spoke, eyebrows drawn together like she was struggling to hold herself back. “Not unless you mean it. Please, I— I can’t just be an experiment for you. You may think you want this right now, but I can hear the panic in your mind, even as you try to push it down.”

Hermione sighed and rested her forehead against Narcissa’s. She couldn’t even argue with her. Partly because she couldn’t come up with the right words, and partly because just as she opened her mouth to speak, the door swung open, making them both jump apart.

“Hey, Oliver sent me to— Woah!” Andromeda stood in the doorway, staring open-mouthed at the two women in front of her. “Sorry, I didn’t realise I would be… interrupting something.”

Narcissa was the first to find her voice. “Andy, we were just—“

“No need to explain,” Andromeda said, taking a step backwards and reaching for the door. “I’ll just leave you to it, shall I? Although, I would recommend moving this to an actual room, with a bed. I can’t imagine those benches will be too comfortable, or sanitary, for that matter. Never mind that anybody could just walk in, unless you’re into that. You know what, I don’t want to know.”

“Andy…” Narcissa tried again, glancing at the open door behind Andromeda to make sure nobody else was coming their way.

“Wait, is that what happened in France?” Andromeda continued, either not hearing Narcissa, or not caring. “And why you haven’t spoken to each other since? Merlin, this is—“

“Andromeda!” Narcissa snapped, waving her wand to shut her sister up. She grabbed Andromeda by the shoulders and dragged her inside, slamming the door closed. “Will you just listen to me for one second?”

Andromeda nodded, holding her hands up in surrender. Narcissa sighed and removed the spell, confident that Andromeda would finally let her speak.

“This never happened,” Narcissa hissed, jamming her finger against Andromeda’s chest. “You never saw a thing. Not a word to anybody, do you understand? Don’t make me obliviate you.”

“Salazar, Cissa,” Andromeda gasped as she backed away, looking at her sister like she’d gone mad. “Do you honestly think I would go out there and tell everyone? It’s your business to tell or not, there’s no need to threaten me. Why are you getting so defensive?”

Narcissa glanced at Hermione, who was still frozen by the wall as she watched the argument unfold. Andromeda followed Narcissa’s gaze and when she noticed the fear on the younger witch’s face, she immediately understood.

“Oh. I see,” she said softly, giving Hermione a sympathetic smile. “Hermione, you don’t have to worry. I would never out you. That’s up to you to tell people, if and when you’re ready. For what it’s worth, I completely support you two being together.”

“We’re not,” Hermione said quickly, earning a confused look from Andromeda. “Together. I mean, we did… But we were drunk. It was a one time thing, that’s all.”

“Okay…” Andromeda said slowly, looking at each of her teammates in turn. “Well, still. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Hermione murmured.

Andromeda nodded, then turned to Narcissa and squeezed her arm. Narcissa looked back at her and nodded, leaving Hermione feeling like she was intruding on a private conversation that she couldn’t even hear.

“Oliver wanted me to tell you two that training is over,” Andromeda said then. “I’ll tell him you’ll be out in a few minutes.”

When Andromeda left, Hermione let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Then she turned to find Narcissa watching her with an unreadable expression, and she felt like running after Andromeda.

“I take it that’s your decision, then?” Narcissa asked. “It was a one time thing? A drunken mistake?”

Hermione wanted to deny it, wanted to tell her it wasn’t a mistake, but she couldn’t get the words out. Instead, maybe even against her own will, she nodded.

“I think we should be focused on the World Cup right now, not whatever this is. You were right; you shouldn’t be an experiment. I don’t want to hurt you, not when we’ve finally stopped being enemies. Can we just be friends?”

Narcissa didn’t answer for a long time, and Hermione was starting to fear that she had once again destroyed the strange friendship that was forming between them. But, after what felt like an eternity, Narcissa stretched out her hand towards Hermione.

“Friends it is,” she said as Hermione hesitantly shook her hand. “Come on, we better go before someone else comes looking for us.”

Oliver eyed them cautiously as they returned to the group, but when they stood next to each other in the circle without throwing insults, he seemed satisfied that his plan had worked. With a triumphant smile, he clapped his hands together and started rambling on about about strategies for the semifinal match.

Chapter 12

“-And sometimes I think he might like me too, but I don’t want to make things awkward either. I mean, we’ve been great friends since we were kids and we’re on the same team now so we have to see each other all the time now, you know? And what if we try something and it doesn’t work out and- Are you even listening to me, Hermione?”

“Hm?” Hermione had been in a daze, searching through her wardrobes for an outfit to wear to their team dinner that evening and barely heard her friend speaking to her. She turned to Ginny with an apologetic look and threw a few dresses onto the bed next to the redhead. “Sorry, just a little distracted. What were you saying? Something about Harry?”

“Never mind,” Ginny said with a shrug. “I’m probably reading too much into things anyway.”

Hermione laughed before she could stop herself, and received a glare from Ginny for her reaction. “Sorry, it’s just… If you don’t think he likes you too, you must be blind.”

“What?” Ginny tried to brush it off like it was nothing, but her eyes had lit up with hopefulness. “Do you really think so?”

“Are you serious?” Hermione asked, picking up a knee-length navy dress from the pile on the bed. She inspected it through her reflection in the mirror and made a face before throwing it aside and moving on to the next. “Harry has been in love with you since we were in school. Maybe he didn’t always know it, but he’s certainly beginning to figure it out. Haven’t you seen the way he looks at you?”

“I don’t know…” Ginny said hesitantly. “If that’s true, why hasn’t he said anything?”

“Maybe he’s scared of ruining things too,” Hermione replied. “Or else he really is completely oblivious to his own feelings, and yours. I wouldn’t be surprised either way.”

“Great,” Ginny huffed, rolling her eyes. “So it’s hopeless.”

“You could ask him out,” Hermione suggested as she discarded another dress with a huff. “He would say yes, I’m sure of it.”

Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment as she considered it. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “I’ll try to figure him out tonight.”

Hermione gave her a sympathetic smile. In a way, she understood what Ginny was going through. She still couldn’t figure out her own feelings towards Narcissa, or Narcissa’s feelings towards her. The woman was still impossible to read. Hermione frowned then, wondering if she was putting Narcissa in the same position as Ginny. She couldn’t imagine Narcissa being that torn up about Hermione, but then again, she had no way of knowing.

“What about you?” Ginny asked suddenly, putting a stop to Hermione’s racing thoughts. “Are there any men in your life I should know about?”

“No!” Hermione answered a little too enthusiastically. “I mean, no. No men at all.”

It wasn’t technically a lie, but Ginny looked suspicious anyway. Hermione almost held her breath as she picked up a dark green dress and held it up against herself in the mirror, trying to use it as a distraction.

“Okay…” Ginny said, dragging out the word slowly. “If you say so. Fine, if you don’t want to talk about your love life, then let’s talk about something else. Did something happen between you and Narcissa?”

Hermione gripped the material of the dress tightly and swallowed the lump in her throat before glancing at Ginny’s reflection in the mirror. Ginny was watching her carefully, trying to figure out her reaction to the question.

“Wh- What do you mean?” Hermione asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite the pounding in her chest.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at her like are you serious and scoffed. “Come on, Mione. You two have been acting strange ever since we got back from France. Well, stranger than usual.” She squinted at Hermione like she was trying to read her mind. “Did she do or say something to upset you? I can’t believe Oliver made you share a room with her. I should have offered to share with you instead, if I’d known about that–“

“No, no,” Hermione interrupted. “It’s nothing like that, she didn’t– It was fine. We actually started to get on quite well.”

“Then what is it?” Ginny pleaded. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

Hermione sighed and tilted her head, scrutinising Ginny through the mirror while she debated whether or not to tell her the truth. She chewed her bottom lip, considering the possible outcomes. Her fear was that Ginny would be disgusted, but would she really react that way?

She’s your best friend, she’ll love you either way. The words of encouragement Narcissa had offered her the last time they spoke came floating back into her mind. She was probably right. Surely Ginny wouldn’t let something like this ruin ten years of friendship. They had been there for each other through everything, so why would this be any different?

“Well…” Hermione started slowly, taking a breath as her heart raced in her chest. “Something did happen.”

“I knew it,” Ginny huffed, already on her feet. “When I get my hands on that woman, I swear to Merlin–”

Hermione let the dress slip out of her hands and grabbed Ginny’s shoulders, fearing that the redhead would actually leave to find Narcissa before hearing the full explanation. “Woah, slow down, GIn. It’s nothing like whatever you’re probably thinking. Just…” Hermione sighed and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to build up the confidence to get the words out. “Merlin, okay, just sit down. I need to tell you something.”

Ginny’s brow furrowed, but she sat down without a sound. Hermione sat next to her and stared at the floor, wringing her hands gently. “So… When we were in that bar in France… Wait, maybe I should go back a bit. A few days before that–” Hermione shook her head and tried to start over. “No, It’s better if I just say it straight out… Or, should I…”

“Mione, breathe,” GInny said softly, interrupting Hermione’s panicked stammering. She squeezed Hermione’s arm, forcing her to meet Ginny’s eyes. “It’s alright. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Hermione saw the sincerity in Ginny’s eyes and nodded, readying herself to drop the bomb. “Okay. Don’t freak out, but Narcissa and I sl–”

A door slamming within the apartment startled the two women and Hermione leapt off the bed, followed quickly by Ginny. They shared a glance, both reaching for their wands on instinct, until they heard a familiar voice and relaxed.

“Hermione! Ginny! Are you two here?”

Two sets of footsteps drew closer to Hermione’s bedroom door and waited for a response. Hermione rolled her eyes and opened the door, slipping her wand back into her pocket. Harry and Ron stood on the other side, the former holding his hand up in a wave while the latter was engaged in a battle to keep Crookshanks from tearing his jeans with his claws.

“Gods, you two almost gave us a heart attack,” Ginny said accusingly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Try owling ahead next time.”

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly, “We were just coming to see if you were ready to go. Oliver wants us there at six sharp, remember?”

“Crooks, stop that,” Hermione huffed, scooping Crookshanks into her arms and saving Ron’s jeans from harm. Then she glanced at the clock behind Harry and gasped. “Merlin, I didn’t notice the time! I was too busy–”

She glanced at Ginny and paused mid-sentence, remembering the conversation that got interrupted. Her face flushed and suddenly she couldn’t remember what she was about to say. Harry and Ron stared at her, confused by the cut-off, before Ginny jumped in to save her.

“Too busy trying to pick an outfit,” she said, finishing Hermione’s sentence, “Before we were rudely interrupted. So, why don’t you two wait for us in the kitchen and we’ll be ready soon.”

Ginny didn’t even wait for a response before she closed the door in their faces. She waited until she heard their footsteps retreating towards the kitchen, then spun around to face Hermione, who was clutching on to Crookshanks like a lifeline. The cat was struggling to free himself from his owner’s grasp, with no success.

“So, what were you saying?” Ginny asked. “Something about you and Narcissa in France?”

But Hermione’s previous confidence had disappeared during the interruption, now replaced by the fear that Harry and Ron would overhear her confession, so she just shook her head. “It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.” She picked up the dress that had been left in a heap on the floor. “It’s getting late, I should get dressed.”

“Oh, okay,” Ginny said, stepping aside as Hermione zipped around the room collecting her makeup and jewellery. Despite the disappointment showing on her face, she didn’t push any further. She waited silently while Hermione changed into the green dress she had been checking out in the mirror, then used magic to apply her makeup so she could save time.

“Right,” Hermione said with a nod, giving herself one last glance over in the mirror, “Let’s go.”

Ginny also took a moment to examine herself in the mirror, smoothing out her maroon dress and fixing her gold earrings before she and Hermione went to meet Harry and Ron in the kitchen. The pair were deep in a conversation about the latest broom technology when Hermione and Ginny emerged, but Harry’s sentence stuttered to an end when he caught sight of Ginny. His cheeks flushed red as he slowly took in her appearance, while Ginny stared back at him, looking equally as flustered.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the two of them, clearly both still oblivious to the other’s feelings. She decided then that she was going to make it her mission to set the two of them up that evening, even if it was the only thing she did. At least one of them deserved to have a successful relationship, and it clearly wasn’t going to be Hermione any time soon.

“Now who’s going to make us late?” Hermione asked, winking subtly at Ginny, who turned bright red upon realising she’d been caught staring. Harry cleared his throat and tried to look anywhere other than Ginny, eventually settling on the floor.

“Right!” Ginny squeaked. “You’re absolutely right, Mione, we should get going.”

Thankfully, Hermione’s apartment was located within walking distance of Diagon Alley, so there was no need to Apparate to the restaurant Oliver had picked out for them. When they arrived, the rest of their team were already waiting outside for them. Andromeda spotted them first, giving the group a cheerful wave as they approached. Oliver offered them a short nod in greeting before holding the door open for each of them.

“Good evening, folks,” the host chirped happily as they entered. “It’s truly a pleasure to have you all here. If you’ll follow me, we have your table ready for you.”

The host led them through the restaurant to a table that was reserved for them in a section that allowed some privacy from the other tables, though it didn’t prevent the stares they received as they made their way across the room. Hermione spotted a few guests pointing and whispering excitedly to each other and felt a burst of pride in her chest. It was certainly a far cry from her getting harassed on the streets by angry fans accusing her of dishonoring the memories of the original team.

As if reading her mind, Ron glanced around and piped up to the rest of the team. “Woah, it looks like we actually have some fans now.”

“Guess that’s what happens when you make it to the semi-finals,” Harry replied, seeming stunned by the reactions too. “Looks like we’ve finally managed to prove ourselves.”

“I always knew you would,” Oliver said, a proud grin tugging at his lips as they began to take their seats.

Hermione was so focused on making sure Harry and Ginny ended up sitting next to each other, she didn’t notice that the only free seat left was next to Narcissa until it was too late. She hesitated, staring at the woman nervously until she realised Ginny was giving her a strange look from across the table, probably wondering why she wasn’t sitting down. Sucking in a breath, Hermione took her seat and did her best to avoid looking at Narcissa.

“Always, Oliver?” Bellatrix asked with a raised eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah, I’m sure I can name more than a few occasions where you looked like you were ready to throw in the towel,” Andromeda added.

“Okay, okay, maybe in the beginning I wasn’t so sure,” Oliver admitted, “But you have to agree, none of you made it easy on me in the first few weeks.”

“Especially Hermione and Narcissa,” Ron teased, smirking down the table at the two women. “Those two were constantly at each other’s throats. I thought you were going to call the whole thing off just so you wouldn’t have to deal with them. At least that’s over now.”

Hermione finally glanced at Narcissa, remembering how often they used to fight over such trivial things. As awkward as things felt between them now, she still couldn’t imagine them falling back into their old habits after everything that happened. Even before that night in France, they had genuinely started to get along, even if it was a little strained. Maybe they could just forget about what happened and continue to build on their friendship.

Still, when Narcissa’s eyes met her own, Hermione felt her cheeks burning and she looked away, afraid that their teammates would somehow figure things out just from her reaction. She thought she heard a small sigh coming from Narcissa’s lips as she stared down at her napkin, but then again, she probably just imagined it.

“Who would’ve thought that the hotel messing up our booking would be the thing that solved our problems,” Oliver mused. “If I’d known that would happen, I probably would’ve found a way for it to happen sooner.”

Hermione had just taken a sip of water and almost choked on it when Oliver brought up their sleeping arrangement. The entire table stared at her as she spluttered helplessly and tried to compose herself, but the only one she cared about was Narcissa. Blue eyes were trained steadily on her, which only served to make things worse. All she could think about was looking into those blue eyes under different circumstances and she tried to push the memory from her mind, as if the rest of her teammates had suddenly become skilled in Legilimency too.

“Sorry,” Hermione managed to force out after a minute. “Went down the wrong way.”

Most of the team seemed to accept that as a reasonable explanation, but Hermione could still feel Narcissa’s eyes on her from beside her. Even worse, Ginny was still staring at her from the chair opposite to her, full of suspicion as her gaze moved on to Narcissa. Clearly, she knew there was another explanation for Hermione’s reaction, and she seemed determined to figure it out. The attention from both sides was making Hermione’s heart beat quicker by the second, but neither witch was relenting.

“Is the thought of us being together really so bad that it would cause you to react like that? You haven’t even been able to look at me since we arrived. What happened to just being friends?”

Hearing Narcissa’s voice inside her head was almost enough to send Hermione over the edge. She dug her nails into her hands so hard beneath the table, she was sure to leave marks, but she barely felt it. She was so focused on slowing the pace of her breathing, she forgot to answer Narcissa. It was only when she felt Narcissa moving to stand up that she realised she hadn’t even denied the accusation.

“Excuse me,” Narcissa announced, stepping away from the table, “I just need a moment to freshen up.”

“Hey, Black!” Ginny called, jogging to catch up with Narcissa as she walked away. “Hang on. We need to talk.”

Hermione felt the colour drain from her face as the pair rounded a corner, drifting out of earshot of the table. The conversations around the table died out as her teammates stared after the two women, the same question surely playing on each of their minds. Hermione knew she should go after them, but her entire body had turned to lead.

“What in Merlin’s name was that about?” Oliver asked, finally breaking the silence. He was rubbing his temples, seeming like he couldn’t handle much more of the drama within the team. Hermione wasn’t sure if she could either.

Ron shrugged and shoved a piece of bread into his mouth, completely unbothered by the scene. “No idea. Mione, do you know?” he asked, the words muffled by his food.

Everyone’s eyes landed on Hermione, full of interest, but she barely heard the question. She was certain her heartbeat could be heard from every corner of the restaurant with how loud it was in her own ears. It was only when Harry nudged her under the table that she finally looked up from the napkin she had suddenly taken a special interest in.

“Huh, what?” she coughed, trying to catch up on the conversation. “Uh, I don’t– Why would I know anything about that?”

“Because Ginny’s your best friend?” Ron questioned, staring at Hermione like she’d gone crazy. “Why else?”

“Right,” Hermione replied quickly. “Of course. Maybe I should– I need to go.”

Hermione shot up, nearly knocking her chair over in the process. She managed to catch it just before it crashed to the ground, but the commotion was still enough to draw the attention of several nearby tables. She forced out an awkward laugh, trying to play it off as she pushed the chair back in, but it sounded far too strained. Andromeda caught Hermione’s eye across the table and made a move to stand too, but Hermione shook her head sharply. The last thing she needed was more people getting involved in her drama.

She hurried through the restaurant, ignoring the stares and hushed whispers she was getting from the other guests. The only thing she cared about was catching up to Ginny and Narcissa before an argument broke out between them. As she reached the hallway the two witches had turned down to get away from the public eye, Ginny was already in full flight, hounding Narcissa for answers.

“–Ever since we got back from France, and I know it’s because of you,” she whispered harshly, pointing a finger at Narcissa, who was standing against the wall with her arms crossed.

“You don’t know a thing,” Narcissa hissed back. “Why don’t you talk to Hermione before throwing accusations at me.”

“I tried, but she won’t tell me anything. And she usually tells me everything, so whatever it is must be really bad if she won’t even–”

“Did you ever stop to consider that perhaps there’s a reason Hermione won’t talk about it?” Narcissa interrupted, tapping her nails impatiently on her arm. “Maybe what happened is none of your business–”

“Stop it!” Hermione couldn’t bear to listen to them anymore, so she stepped forward and made her presence known. Ginny jumped at the sudden intrusion and turned to Hermione with a guilty expression, while Narcissa seemed unfazed by Hermione sneaking up on them. “Both of you, just stop.”

“Mione, I was just trying to–”

“–Defend me?” Hermione guessed. “I know, Gin. But you don’t need to. Not from Narcissa, at least. She didn’t do anything to me.”

Narcissa finally looked at Hermione upon hearing that, but her expression remained guarded. Ginny glanced between the two witches a few times, her confusion growing by the second.

“You don’t have to tell her if you’re not ready.” Narcissa’s voice echoed softly in Hermione’s head.

Hermione gulped and gave her a small nod in response. “I know.”

“Uh, hello?” Ginny said, breaking the staring match between her teammates. “What’s happening here? Why are you two looking at each other like that?”

“Narcissa and I slept together,” Hermione blurted out before she could talk herself out of it again. “That’s what happened in France.”

“What?” Ginny practically screeched. “You two– When– How– Why? I thought you hated each other. Wait, Mione, since when do you like women?”

“I– I don’t…” Hermione glanced at Narcissa helplessly. “We…”

“We were drunk,” Narcissa explained quietly. “That’s all.”

Hermione flashed a grateful smile at Narcissa for jumping in to help her, but Narcissa wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. Hermione furrowed her brow, unable to figure out why, but Ginny took her attention before she could ask.

“Drunk enough to… switch sides?” Ginny questioned slowly. “Merlin, Hermione, you've never shown an interest in women. Or have I just been completely oblivious to it? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? How long have you known?

Hermione had to grab Ginny by the shoulders to put a stop to her ramblings. “Gin, I’ll explain everything, okay? I promise, just maybe not here, with so many people around.”

As if on cue, someone cleared their throat behind them. Hermione spun around in fear, half expecting to find Rita Skeeter armed with her signature notebook and quill, ready to spill her secrets to the world. Instead, her eyes landed on Andromeda, who wore an apologetic smile.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, moving closer to the trio, “But Oliver was about to come looking for you himself and I figured you probably wouldn’t want anyone else overhearing… whatever you three were talking about.”

Hermione let out a sigh of relief and nodded. “Thanks Andy. We’ll come back now.”

Hermione, Narcissa, and Andromeda began to walk away, but Ginny’s voice stopped them in their tracks. “Hang on,” she said, tilting her head at Andromeda. “You knew what we were talking about? You knew about them… before I did?”

“Gin, it’s not like that,” Hermione said softly. “I wanted to tell you, I was just scared. And the only reason Andy found out before you is because she walked in on Narcissa and I—“

“Oh, Merlin, ew!” Ginny gasped, covering her ears. “Forget it, I don’t need the details.”

“–Talking about it,” Hermione finished, swatting Ginny’s arm. “Get your mind out of the gutter, will you?”

“Okay, okay!” Ginny held her hands up in surrender. “Just one last question. Why were you so afraid of telling me? You’re my best friend, Mione, that would never change. I don’t care who you fancy, you’re still the same person I’ve always known.”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but the words got stuck in her throat and tears began to well in her eyes. Instead, she rushed forward and threw her arms around Ginny, who stumbled backwards from the impact as the air was knocked out of her lungs. She buried her head into Ginny’s shoulder, trying to keep the tears from falling and ruining her makeup.

“Woah, alright,” Ginny coughed out, wrapping her arms around Hermione and patting her back gently. “Come on, don’t go all soft on me now.”

“Sorry.” Hermione pulled back with an embarrassed chuckle. “I just… I was hoping you’d say that.”

Ginny rolled her eyes playfully, but still squeezed Hermione’s arm in a comforting gesture. “Well, what else did you expect? I’m not a monster, you know.”

“I know,” Hermione giggled, relief flooding through her mind. “I was just being an idiot, I suppose.”

“Alright, you two, let’s get going,” Andromeda encouraged, smiling softly at the younger women. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving.”

“Oh, me too,” Ginny groaned, heading back down the hallway towards the restaurant. “All these emotional talks have built up my appetite.”

Hermione held back for a moment, finally being able to breathe without feeling like there was a weight on her chest. She used the brief moment of peace to compose herself, closing her eyes and leaning back against the wall. A small grin tugged at the corners of her mouth when she realised she had been worrying over nothing for so long. Of course Ginny was never going to react badly to the situation. What had she been thinking?

“I told you so.”

Hermione opened her eyes, surprised to see Narcissa still standing there, seemingly waiting for her. For once, she didn’t feel any sense of panic rising in her chest when she met Narcissa’s eyes. They were softer now, different from the usual icy expression, and Narcissa was almost smiling at her.

“Yeah,” Hermione breathed out. “You did.”

Narcissa didn’t say anything else, only gestured in the direction Andromeda and Ginny had just gone in. Hermione nodded and pushed herself off the wall, and the two of them returned to the table together. And this time, there wasn’t any awkwardness as they sat next to each other and rejoined the conversation with ease. Suddenly, friendship was looking a lot more possible than it had been before.