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“Why is it I need to go to this game?” Hermione asked Pansy who had elegantly draped herself over the chair in her office.
“It’s the most important game of the season, and anyone would know something isn’t right between the two of you if you don’t show up,” Pansy said nonchalantly, inspecting her impeccable nails at the same time. “And the election is next year, do you want the Pureblood vote or not?”
“But I must also work on this case Kingsley has given me,” Hermione gave as an excuse, it wasn’t really a valid one, she had a week before Kingsley needed the full dossier on his desk. And the look on Pansy’s face made it clear the witch knew Hermione’s excuse was complete bollocks.
The dark-haired witch flicked her wand; a clothing bag came flying into the office.
“What?’ Hermione asked astonished.
“If you thought I’ll be letting you out of my sight before we reach the stadium, you’re highly mistaken.” Pansy flicked her wand once more and an elegant set of robes in dark burgundy appeared out of the clothes bag. “Change right here.” She ordered.
Hermione saw that her friend and PR-agent wasn’t joking so she reluctantly changed into the set of robes. Once she was fully dressed and looked in the mirror Pansy had conjured, she had to admit that the robes hugged her figure in all the right places. The colour itself complimenting her skin colour, as always Pansy had done a great job.
Sadly, the fact that she was in a public ‘relationship’ meant she and Pansy had to enter the stadium through the public gates, making sure the photographers of the Daily Prophet caught a couple of pictures of the pair. “Smile, Hermione, this is great PR for your upcoming campaign.” Reluctantly Hermione tried to put a genuine smile on her face.
She was here, and she was going to watch a full quidditch game. Without a book to escape into, wouldn’t look right on the pictures Pansy said. Hermione did not have a clue what people did in the stands during the boring passages of quidditch games. The one saving grace was that the other team in the final was Ginny’s Holyhead Harpy’s, Hermione could just look at one of her best friends instead of at the guy she was supposed to be dating lazily zooming above the pitch, what did seekers do during a game any way?
Pansy led her through the halls of the national Quidditch stadium. She even had to flash a badge to get through to a certain corridor. Hermione didn’t understand why other times her friends had dragged her to the Quidditch stadium she first of all needed to have a ticket and certainly didn’t need to have a badge checked to get to a certain part of the stadium. She didn’t know what Pansy was up to now.
“We’re here, smile Granger, photographers are everywhere,” Pansy said as she stopped in front of a set of ornate doors, Hermione couldn’t miss the large plague above the mahogany doors: ‘The Arminius Malfoy Box’. For Godric’s sake, was Pansy really going to have her mingle with the Malfoy family?
“Is this really necessary?” She asked as Pansy reached for the door, stopping the other witch right in the middle of her movements.
“Hermione, you’re dating the man. It would be very weird if you weren’t in the family box.” Pansy said, looking her in the eye, pointing out the ridicule of Hermione’s question.
Why did she agree to this plan? It was all fun and games until she had to actually be out and about with Malfoy. He was the nations playboy; he had briefly ‘dated’ all the beautiful models in the world. How could a relationship with the ‘boring, career-minded golden girl’ or at least that was what the Daily Prophet was regularly calling her? Up until she stepped out on a date with Draco Malfoy, and now she was here at the Grand Final all the eyes that were not on completely focussed on the game would certainly be focussed on her reactions and their relationship in general.
“Earth to Granger,” Pansy laughed, “if you keep in that big brain of yours for any longer, we’ll miss the kick-off!” As a statement, the other witch promptly opened the door and let Hermione finally lay eyes on The Arminius Malfoy Box. It was as impressive as she expected the Malfoy family home was, there was even a portrait of the namesake of the Box located so it could look over the field and follow the game.
“Don’t worry, Granger, his parents aren’t here, his father is still on house arrest and Narcissa didn’t want to leave him alone.” Pansy clarified after Hermione had scanned the box furiously to spot the trademark platinum blonde hair. Pansy’s explanation lifted a weight off her shoulder she was not in the mood to try and meet the in-laws of her fake boyfriend, without her fake boyfriend even there to do the talking.
Pansy swiftly moved them about the box to the first row of seats on the stands, ushering her past an overly excited Zabini being held to etiquette by a struggling Nott and Daphne Greengrass. “Just focus on the game and don’t forget it’s your boyfriend playing. Act like it!”
And that’s what she tried to do, well she tried to follow an entire game of quidditch for the first time in her life. However, from the start of the game, she had decided she would mainly follow the chaser play and watch her best friend hopefully win the Grand Final. During the game, however, she couldn’t help but scan the pitch to look if Malfoy were still safely on his broom. Every time the Holyhead Harpy’s beaters sent a Bludger in his direction; she caught herself doing silent prayers the Bath Bombers beaters would be there to bail him out, and every time they did a breath Hermione didn’t even know she had been holding escaped her lips. Often resulting in a knowing smirk on Pansy’s face.
“Oooooh look, the boy has his eye on it,” The voice of the portrait of Arminius Malfoy and Hermione scanned the pitch to spot Malfoy once again. The only thing she could spot was a navy blue streak diving through the air, which meant the portrait had most likely spotted it correctly and Malfoy had spotted the snitch and had started the chase, the opposing seeker hot on his heels. The Quaffle game of the match now fully forgotten Hermione breathlessly followed the navy-blue streak around the pitch. After what felt like hours, he finally came up the golden snitch firmly in his hand, a smirk firmly on his face. The whole box erupted in cheers, just as half of the rest of the stadium. Hermione couldn’t help but join in.
Hermione thought the cheering couldn’t get any louder, but when the president of the British and Irish Quidditch league presented the Bath captain Adam Price with the trophy not only the organised fireworks went off the whole stadium seemed to explode. However, the whole extravaganza around her seemed to fade to the background when her eyes caught Malfoy’s grey ones. The genuine smile he seemed to give only her started a soft simmer in her heart. She couldn’t help but closely follow his movements around the pitch after that, and he seemed to have noticed and now and then he sends a smile, smirk, or salacious smirk her way.
After the initial celebrations died down a bit Hermione stared off to the pitch where the players seemed to talk to the fans and their loved ones. Suddenly Pansy nudged her in the side. “Hey, Granger, get ready. I want you pitchside.”
“Pitchside?” She looked up at Pansy, pretty sure the shock was clear on her face.
“Yes, Granger, get up we’re going pitchside,” Pansy said getting up from her own seat, the following part was only a harsh whisper: “And you’re going to congratulate your boyfriend on winning the game.”
Hermione didn’t know how to connect the situation she was currently into the feelings that suddenly appeared during this damn game, and now she had to face him? In public. Why did she let Pansy talk her into this and why did her heart think today was a good day to make an appearance?
Her heart rate seemed to rise the closer they got to the pitch, but she couldn’t just stop, she couldn’t hide. Pansy would have her head, and the campaign would be over before it even started, she was in too far now.
And then there he was, waiting for her. No stupid, he was waiting for the both of them, Pansy was his long-time friend and PR-agent it was logical for him to want to greet his friend, it was also logical for him to greet her lovingly, he needed to clean up his reputation. It was all an act.
“Hello, love,” He said approaching her first, enveloping her in a hug. Then his hands moved to cradle her face and tip it back before softly pressing his lips to hers. The moment his lips touched hers the soft simmer in her heart seemed to have turned into a full-on wildfire, damn this man.
“Did you enjoy the game?” He asked when he finally gave her what felt like room to breathe again.
“It was… good?” Hermione stammered, “I don’t watch many Quidditch games.”
“I guess you’re going to have to change that now,” He said smirking down at her.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Hi, Pans, good day to you too,” Malfoy said, finally acknowledging his long-time friend.
“Hi, Draco, good game.” Pansy smiled at them both.
Malfoy turned her in his arms. “Shall we take a picture with the cup, love?” He said smiling down at her.
“Sure,” She led him lead her to his teammates and the cup in the centre of the Quidditch pitch. This man deserved an award, not only for winning the British and Irish league but also for being such a great actor. It almost seemed like the fire had also started within his heart.