Can A Phoenix Love A Lion? (Hermione Granger x Male Reader)

11. Enemies of the Heir, Beware

Days passed, and days became weeks, and weeks became a month. Harry was hiding every time Gilderoy Lockhart or Colin—who seemed to have memorised his schedule—appeared, which was hilarious.

As October went on, early in the morning, Y/N walked across the park with Harry, Hermione and Ron toward the Quidditch field, followed by a Colin who asked way too many questions.

Once they got to the field, Harry went to the changing room and the others in the stands. However, nearly forty minutes later, none of the Gryffindor players had begun to play. To add more, the Slytherin team was coming on the field. Well, now that smells fishy.

Y/N, Hermione and Ron came down on the grass and crossed it toward the two teams which now faced one another.

"What's happening?" Ron asked. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"

Y/N stared at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes. No... How did he do?

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," Malfoy said. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Y/N gaped at their broomsticks. He had seen only one at Diagon Alley, and it was so expensive! Now he had seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleaming under his nose.

"Good, aren't they?" Malfoy added. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise up some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin howled in laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," Hermione said sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

What did he say?—I think he wants to die. Now, everyone wanted to punch Malfoy. Fred and George had to be stopped from jumping on him. A Gryffindor player shrieked, "How dare you!" Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and he pointed it furiously at Malfoy's face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium as a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backwards onto the grass.

Harry and Hermione ran to him. "Ron! Are you all right?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no word came out. Instead, he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

The Slytherin team were paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist.

It was too good of an opportunity to miss it. Y/N raised his foot back, getting into the swing of things, and kicked Malfoy full in the stomach, throwing him on the ground. "I hope the mud is to your liking. Maybe you should consider living here," he said furiously.

Then, he turned around and joined Hermione and Harry next to Ron. "We'd better get him to Hagrid, it's nearest."

Hermione nodded and the three of them pulled Ron up. Colin chose that moment to come from the stands—not really to the liking of anyone—and more slugs dribbled down from Ron's mouth.

"Oooh," Colin said, fascinated and raising his camera. "Can you hold him still, Harry?"

"Get out of the way, Colin!" blurted out Harry.