Quit Before You Lose Everything

3. Preseason Prep

August 25th, 8:07 am

Fred pouted in the backseat, arms crossed, and back slumped; the whole nine yards of a toddler's grade A pouting fit.

Hermione sat smug in the passenger seat, having beat Fred to the seat by a mere minute. Bran muffin in one hand, a banana and a cup of coffee in the other. Her clipboard, emergency medical supplies and everything else she could possibly need for the day in a bag at her feet.

"You can walk if you are going to have an attitude about this Freddie." Arthur berated, raising his brows in the rear view mirror as he reversed out of the driveway. Knowing full well that Fred had been the one to challenge the race and that Hermione had won it fair.

George laughed from his position behind his father's drive seat, shooting Hermione a smile as she turned to glance at him. He hadn't opted to participate, seemingly understanding Hermione's competitive side that rarely had time to shine these days.

"It was Gin's fault Da." Fred whined, slumping further. "Stole my bran muffin, and hid my practice headband-"

"Good riddance." Hermione mumbled under her breath, earning a snort of laughter from George again.

Hermione tore her muffin in half, offering it over the seat to Fred. Who pouted a moment, before swiping it from her hand, turning to glare out the window.

"I did nothing of the sort Fred, I was merely doing society a favor." Ginny shouted from the back, where she was sprawled across a row seat. Tugging her shin guards on, pulling her socks up, and tying the laces of her cleats all with a pencil stuck between her teeth and an essay she had due propped against her legs.

They were dropping her off at the local college campus, as she had early morning practice then a day of school before Harry was set to pick her up afterwards for some date night celebrating some anniversary.

Arthur already had six different ways he was going to use that very tidbit of knowledge against Harry at practice.

They were nearly done with their week of drills, the new recruits shaping up nicely and Arthur hesitatingly agreeing that perhaps Neville was a better choice after wearing a pair of skates that actually fit.

It was Cormac that Hermione was unsure of. Quiet, brooding type who didn't say much but radiated that he was better than everyone else. There was no question he was an excellent hockey player, he was just lacking the team player aspect of things.

Hermione kept her distance, as she was hyper-aware of the sort of man he ought to be.

Fred had already shown his clear displeasure for the boy, and even went so far as to refuse participating in partners with him in drills. Leaving Harry to do it, who flipped Fred off behind his back every chance he got because of it.

"That headband is a staple piece Ginny." Fred scolded, shoveling the muffin into his mouth. "It sets me apart." He spoke, muffled by the muffin in his mouth.

"What do you think about running that third play today?" Arthur leaned over, one eye on the road and the other on the now open playbook on Hermione's lap.

"Won't get a chance Da if you kill us before we get there." George called from his seat, face hidden behind the roll of tape he was bounding his hockey stick with.

The rhythmic ripping sound was like music to Hermione's ears.

"Give it a go, not sure how Blondie's gonna take the swing around loop-" Hermione started.

"Malfoy hates putting any more work in than he has to." Fred pointed out, moving to lean forward, intentions on hanging his head between his father and Hermione's.